
(iiass ^S_^l 
Book__i±V3 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



Vol. VI 




THE MATTERHORN" 



SEEING EUROPE 

WITH FAMOUS 
AUTHORS 




SELECTED AND EDITED 

WITH 
INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. 



BY 

FRANCIS W. HALSEY 

Editor of "Great Epochs in American History'^ 

Associate Editor of "The World's Famous Orations' 

and of "The Best of the World's Classics," etc. 




IN TEN 

VOLUMES 

ILLUSTRATED 

m 



Vol. VI 

GERMANY, AUSTRIA-HUNGARY, 

AND SWITZERLAND 

Part Two 



FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 



^ 



COPYEIGIIT, 1914, BY 

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY 
\_Printecl in the United States of America] 

VI 



,.. - JAN 31 1914 



©CI.A362419 



CONTENTS OF VOLUME VI 

Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Switzer- 
land—Part Two 

VI. B.V^GAnY~(Contifmed) 

PAGE 

Hungarian Baths and Resorts — By H. 

Tomai de Kover 1 

The Gipsies — By H. Tomai de Kover . . . . 5 

VII. AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

Trieste and Pola — By Edward A. Freeman 9 

Spalato — By Edward A. Freeman 18 

Ragusa — By Harry De Windt 18 

Cattaro — By Edward A. Freeman 25 

VIII. OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 

Cracow — By Menie Muriel Dowie 29 

On the Road to Prague — By Bayard Taylor 34 
The Cave op Adelsberg — By George Stillman 

Hillard ' 40 

The Monastery of Molk — By Thomas Frog- 
nail Dibdin 46 

V 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 



Through the Tyrol — By William Cullen 

Bryant 50 

In the Dolomites — By Archibald Campbell 

Knowles 53 

Cortina — By Amelia B. Edwards 61 

IX. ALPINE EESORTS 

The Call op the Mountains— By Frederick 

Harrison 67 

Interlaken and the Yungfrau — ^By Archi- 
bald Campbell Knowles 71 

The Altdorf of William Tell — ^By W. D. 

M'Crackan 74 

Lucerne — ^By Victor Tissot 80 

Zurich— By W. D. M'Crackan 83 

The Rigi— By W. D. M'Crackan 87 

Chamouni — AN Avalanche — By Percy Bysshe 

Shelley 92 

Zermatt — By Archibald Campbell Knowles . . 94 
PoNTRESiNA AND St. Moritz — By Victor Tissot 96 

Geneva — ^By Francis H. Gribble 101 

The Castle of Chillon — By Harriet Beeeher 
Stowe 105 

By Rail up the Gorner-Grat — By Archibald 

Campbell Knowles 109 

vi 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Through the St. Gothard into Italy — By 

Victor Tissot 113 

X. ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

First Attempts Half a Century Ago — By 

Edward Whymper 116 

First to the Top of the Matterhorn — By 

Edward Whymper 127 

The Lord Francis Douglas Tragedy — By 

Edward Whymper 133 

An Ascent of Monte Rosa (1858) — By John 

Tyndall 139 

Mont Blanc Ascended, Huxley Going 

Part Way— By John Tyndall 148 

The Jungfrau-Joch — By Sir Leslie Stephen 165 

XL OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 

The Great St. Bernard Hospice — By Archi- 
bald Campbell Knowles 171 

Avalanches — By Victor Tissot 174 

Hunting the Chamois — By Victor Tissot . . 178 

The Celebrities of Geneva — By Francis H. 

Gribble 181 



Vll 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

VOLUME VI 
frontispiece 

The Matterhorn 

PRECEDING PAGE 1 

KURSAAL AT MaRIENBAD 

Marienbad, Austria 

Monastery of St. Ulric and Apra^ Augs- 
burg 

Monastery of Molk on the Danube 
ABOVE Vienna 

Memorial Tablet and Road in the Iron 
Gate of the Danube 

Quay at Fiume 

Royal Palace in Budapest 

Houses of Parliament^ Budapest 

Suspension Bridge Over the Danube at 
Budapest 

Street in Budapest 

Cathedral of Spalato 

Regusa^ Dalmatia 

MiRAMAR 

Geneva 

Regatta Day on Lake Geneva 

ViTZNAu^ The Lake Terminus op the Rigi 

Railroad 
Rhine Palls near Schafphausbn 

viii 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



FOLLOWING PAGE 96 

PONTRESINA IN THE EnGADINE 

St. Moritz IN" THE Engadine 

Fribotjrg 

Berne 

ViVEY^ Lake Geneva 

The Turnhalle^ Zurich 

Interlaken 

Lucerne 

Viaducts on an Alpine Railway 

The Wolfort Viaduct 

Balmat — Saussure Monument in Cham- 

ONIX 

Roofed Wooden Bridge at Lucerne 
The Castle of Chilloit 
Cloud Effect Above Interlaken 
Davos in Winter 



IX 




THE KURSAL AT MARIEXBAD 




V.G 



MARIENBAD^ AUSTRIA 




THE MONASTERY OF ST. ULRTC AXD AFRA, AT AUGSBURG 
IN" BAVARIA 




THE MONASTERY OF MOLK ON THE DANUBE ABOVE VIENNA 




.'oiirtesy Brentanos 

MEMORIAL TABLET AND EOAD IX THE IROX GATE 
OF THE DANUBE 




THE QUAY OF FIUME AT THE HEAD OF THE ADRIATIC 




Courtesy Breiitano's 

THE ROYAL PALACE AT BUDAPEST 




Courtesy Brentaiio's 

THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT AT BUDAPEST 




Courifs;. lireulaiio's 

THE SUSPENSION BRIDGE OVER THE DANUBE AT BUDAPEST 




Courtesy Brentano's 



STREET IN BUDAPEST 




GENEVA 




Courtesy Swiss Federal Railway 

KEGATTA DAY OX LAKE GEXEVA 




Courtesy Swiss Federal Railway 

VITZNAU^ THE LAKE TERMINUS OF THE RIGI RAILROAD 




THE RHINE FALLS NEAR SCHAFFHAUSEN 



VI 
HUNGARY 

(Continued) 
HUNGARIAN BATHS AND RESORTS* 

BY H. TORNAI DE KOVER 

In Hungary there are great quantities of 
unearthed riches, and not only in the form of gold. 
These riches are the mineral waters that abound 
in the country and have been the natural medi- 
cine of the people for many years. Water in 
itself was always worshiped by the Hungarians 
in the earliest ages, and they have found out 
through experience for which ailment the dif- 
ferent waters may be used. There are num- 
bers of small watering-places in the most 
primitive state, which are visited by the 
peasants from far and wide, more especially 
those that are good for rheumatism. 

Like all people that work much in the open, 
the Hungarian in old age feels the aching of 
his limbs. The Carpathians are full of such 
baths, some of them quite primitive; others 
are used more as summer resorts, where the 
well-to-do town people build their villas; others, 
again, like Tatra Fiired, Tatra Lomnicz, Csorba, 
and many others, have every accommodation 
and are visited by people from all over Europe. 

♦From "Hungary." Published by the Macmilian Co. 

YI — 1 1 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

In former times Germans and Poles were the 
chief visitors, but now people come from all 
parts to look at the wonderful ice-caves (where 
one can skate in the hottest summer), the 
waterfalls, and the great pine forests, and 
make walking, driving, and riding tours right 
up to the snow-capped mountains, preferring 
the comparative quiet of this Alpine district 
to that of Switzerland. Almost every place 
has some special mineral water, and among the 
greatest wonders of Hungary are the hot mud- 
baths of Postyen. 

This place is situated at the foot of the 
lesser Carpathians, and is easily reached from 
the main line of the railway. The scenery is 
lovely and the air healthy, but this is nothing 
compared to the wondrous waters and hot mire 
which oozes out of the earth in the vicinity of 
the river Vag. Hot sulfuric water, which con- 
tains radium, bubbles up in all parts of 
Postyen, and even the bed of the cold river is 
full of steaming hot mud. As far back as 
1551 we know of the existence of Postyen as a 
natural cure, and Sir Spencer Wells, the great 
English doctor, wrote about these waters in 
1888. They are chiefly good for rheumatism, 
gout, neuralgia, the strengthening of broken 
bones, strains, and also for scrofula. 

On the premises there is a quaint museum 
with crutches and all sort of sticks and invalid 
chairs left there by their former owners in 
grateful acknowledgment of the wonderful 
waters and mire that had healed them. Of 
late there has been much comfort added; great 
new baths have been built, villas and new 



HUNGARY 



hotels added, so that there is accommodation 
for rich and poor alike. The natural heat 
of the mire is 140 degrees Fahrenheit. Plenty of 
amusements are supplied for those who are not 
great sufferers — tennis, shooting, fishing, boating, 
and swimming being all obtainable. The bathing- 
place and all the adjoining land belongs to Count 
Erdody. 

Another place of the greatest importance is 
the little bath "Parad," hardly three hours 
from Budapest, situated in the heart of the 
mountains of the *'Matra." It is the private 
property of Count Karolyi. The place is prim- 
itive and has not even electric light. Its 
waters are a wonderful combination of iron 
and alkaline, but this is not the most important 
feature. Besides the baths there is a strong 
spring of arsenic water which, through a for- 
tunate combination, is stronger and more di- 
gestible than Roncegno and all the other first- 
rate waters of that kind in the world. 

Not only in northern Hungary does one find 
wondrous cures, it is the same in Transylvania. 
There are healing and splendid mineral waters 
for common use all over the country lying 
idle and awaiting the days when its owners 
will be possest by the spirit of enterprise. 
Borszek, Szovata, and many others are all 
wonders in their way, waters that would bring 
in millions to their owners if only worked 
properly. Szovata, boasts of a lake contain- 
ing such an enormous proportion of salt that 
not even the human body can sink into its 
depths. 

In the south there is Herkulesfiirdo, renowned 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

as much for the beauty of its scenery as for 
its waters. Besides those mentioned there are 
all the summer pleasure resorts; the best of 
these are situated along Lake Balaton. The 
tepid water, long sandbanks, and splendid 
air from the forests make them specially healthy 
for delicate children. But not only have the 
bathing-places beautiful scenery from north 
to south and from east to west, in general the 
country abounds in Alpine districts, waterfalls, 
caves, and other wonders of nature. The most 
beautiful tour is along the river Vag, starting 
from the most northerly point in Hungary near 
the beautiful old stronghold of Arva in the 
county of Arva. 

All those that care to see a country as it 
really is, and do not mind going out of the 
usual beaten track of the globe-trotter, should 
go down the river Vag. It can not be done by 
steamer, or any other comfortable contrivance, 
one must do it on a raft, as the rapids of the 
river are not to be passed by any other means. 
The wood is transported in this way from the 
mountain regions to the south, and for two 
days one passes through the most beautiful 
scenery. Fantastic castles loom at the top of 
mountain peaks, and to each castle is attached 
a page of the history of the Middle Ages, 
when the gTeat noblemen were also the greatest 
robbers of the land, and the people were miser- 
able serfs, who did all the work and were 
tas:ed and robbed by their masters. Castles, 
wild mountain districts, rugged passes, villages, 
and ruins are passed like a beautiful panorama. 
The river rushes along, foaming and dashing 



HUNGARY 



over sharp rocks. The people are reliable and 
very clever in handling the raft, which requires 
great skill, especially when conducted over the 
falls at low water. Sometimes there is only 
one little spot where the raft can pass, and to 
conduct it over those rapids requires absolute 
knowledge of every rock hidden under the shal- 
low falls. If notice is given in time, a rude 
hut will be built on the raft to give shelter 
and make it possible to have meals cooked, al- 
tho in the simplest way (consisting of baked 
potatoes and stew), by the Slavs who are in 
charge of the raft. If anything better is 
wanted it must be ordered by stopping at the 
larger towns; but to have it done in the sim- 
ple way is entering into the true spirit of the 
voyage. 

THE GIPSIES* 

BY H. TORNAI DE KOVER 

Gipsies! Music! Dancing! These are words 
of magic to the rich and poor, noblemen and 
peasant alike, if he be a true Hungarian. 
There are two kinds of gipsies. The wander- 
ing thief, who can not be made to take up 
any occupation. These are a terribly lawless 
and immoral people, and there seems to be no 
way of altering their life and habits, altho 
much has been written on the subject to im- 
prove matters; but the Government has shown 
itself to be helpless as yet. These people live 
here and there, in fact everyvv^here, leading a 

♦From "Hungary." Published by the Macmillan Co. 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

wandering life in carts, and camp wherever 
night overtakes them. After some special evil- 
doing they will wander into Rumania or Rus- 
sia and come back after some years when the 
deed of crime has been forgotten. Their move- 
ments are so quick and silent that they outwit 
the best detectives of the police force. They 
speak the gipsy language, but often a half- 
dozen other languages besides, in their peculiar 
chanting voice. Their only occupation is steal- 
ing, drinking, smoking, and being a nuisance 
to the country in every way. 

The other sort of gipsies consist of those 
that have squatted down in the villages some 
hundreds of years ago. They live in a separate 
part of the village, usually at the end, are dirty 
and untidy and even an unruly people, but for 
the most part have taken up some honest occu- 
pation. They make the rough, unbaked earth 
bricks that the peasant cottages are mostly 
made of, are tinkers and blacksmiths, but they 
do the lowest kind of work too. Besides these, 
however, there are the talented ones. The 
musical gipsy begins to handle his fiddle as 
soon as he can toddle. The Hungarians brought 
their love of music with them from Asia. Old 
parchments have been found which denote that 
they had their songs and war-chants at the 
time of the "home-making," and church and 
folk-songs from their earliest Christian period. 
Peasant and nobleman are musical alike — it 
runs in the race. The gipsies that have settled 
among them caught up the love of music and 
are now the best interpreters of the Hungariaa 
songs. 



HUNGARY 



The people have got so used to their "black- 
ies," as they call them, that no lesser or 
greater fete day can pass without the gipsy 
band having ample work to do in the form of 
playing for the people. Their instruments are 
the fiddle, 'cello, viola, clarinet, tarogato (a 
Hungarian specialty), and, above all, the 
cymbal. The tarogato looks like a grand piano 
with the top off. It stands on four legs like 
a table and has wires drawn across it; on these 
wires the player performs with two little sticks, 
that are padded at the ends with cotton-wool. 
The sound is wild and weird, but if well 
played very beautiful indeed. The gipsies sel- 
dom compose music. The songs come into life 
mostly on the spur of the moment. In the 
olden days war-songs and long ballads were 
the most usual form of music. The seventeenth 
and eighteenth centuries were specially rich in 
the production of songs that live even now. At 
that time the greatest gipsy musician was a 
woman: her name was "Czinka Panna," and she 
was called the Gipsy Queen. With the change 
of times the songs are altered too, and now 
they are mostly lyric. Csardas is the quick 
form of music, and tho of different melodies it 
must always be kept to the same rhythm. This 
is not much sung to, but is the music for the 
national dance. The peasants play on a little 
wooden flute which is called the 'Tilinko," or 
"Furulya," and they know hundreds of sad 
folk-songs and lively Csardas. While living 
their isolated lives in the great plains they 
compose many a beautiful song. 

It is generally from the peasants and thd 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

musical country gentry that the gipsy gets his 
music. He learns the songs after a single 
hearing, and plays them exactly according to 
the singer's wish. The Hungarian noble when 
singing with the gipsies is capable of giving 
the dark-faced boys every penny he has. In 
this manner many a young nobleman has been 
ruined, and the gipsies make nothing of it, 
because they are just like their masters and 
"spend easily earned money easily," as the 
saying goes. Where there is much music there is 
much dancing. Every Sunday afternoon after 
church the villages are lively with the sound 
of the gipsy band, and the young peasant boys 
and girls dance. 

The Slovaks of the north play a kind of 
bagpipe, which reminds one of the Scotch ones; 
but the songs of the Slovak have got very much 
mixed with the Hungarian. The Rumanian 
music is of a distinct type, but the dances all 
resemble the Csardas, with the difference that 
the quick figures in the Slav and Rumanian 
dances are much more grotesque and verging 
on acrobatism. 



vn 
AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

TRIESTE AND POLA* 

BY EDWARD A. FREEMAN 

Trieste stands forth as a rival of Venice, 
which has, in a low practical view of things, 
outstript her. Italian zeal naturally cries for 
the recovery of a great city, once part of the 
old Italian kingdom, and whose speech is large- 
ly, perhaps chiefly, Italian to this day. * But, 
a cry of "Italia Irredenta," however far it may 
go, must not go so far as this. Trieste, a 
cosmopolitan city on a Slavonic shore, can not 
be called Italian in the same sense as the 
lands and towns so near Verona which yearn 
to be as Verona is. Let Trieste be the rival, 
even the eyesore, of Venice, still Southern 
Germany must have a mouth. 

We might, indeed, be better pleased to see 
Trieste a free city, the southern fellow of 
Liibeck, Bremen and Hamburg; but it must 
not be forgotten that the Archduke of Austria 
and Lord of Trieste reigns at Trieste by a far 
better right than that by which he reigns at 
Cattaro and Spizza. The present people of 

*From "Sketches from the Subject and Neighbour 
Lands of Venice." Published by the Macmillan Co. 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

Trieste did not choose him, but the people of 
Trieste five hundred years back did choose the 
forefather of his great-grandmother. Com- 
pared with the grounds of which kingdoms, 
duchies, counties, and lordships, are commonly 
held in that neighborhood, such a claim as this 
must be allowed to be respectable indeed. 

The great haven of Trieste may almost at 
pleasure be quoted as either confirming or con- 
tradicting the rule that it is not in the great 
commercial, cities of Europe that we are to 
look for the choicest or the most plentiful re- 
mains of antiquity. Sometimes the cities them- 
selves are of modem foundation; in other 
cases the cities themselves, as habitations of 
men and seats of commerce, are of the hoariest 
antiquity, but the remains of thsir early days 
have perished through their very prosperity. 
Massalia,* with her long history, with her dou- 
ble wreath of freedom, the city which withstood 
Csesar and which withstood Charles of Anjou, 
is bare of monuments of her early days. She 
has been the victim of her abiding good for- 
tune. We can look down from the height on 
the Phokaian harbor; but for actual memorials 
of the men who fled from the Persian, of the 
men who defied the Roman and the Angevin, 
we might look as well at Liverpool or at Havre. 

Genoa, Venice herself, are hardly real excep- 
tions; they were indeed commercial cities, but 
they were ruling cities also, and, as ruling 
cities, they reared monuments which could 
hardly pass away. What are we to say to the 

♦The modern Marseilles. 

10 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

modem rival of Venice, the upstart rebel, one 
is tempted to say, against the supremacy of 
the Hadriatic Queen? Trieste, at the head of 
her gulf, with the hills looking down to her 
haven, with the snowy mountains which seem 
to guard the approach from the other side of 
her inland sea, with her harbor full of the 
ships of every nation, her streets echoing with 
every tongue, is she to be reckoned as an ex- 
ample of the rule or an exception to it? 

No city at first sight seems more thoroughly 
modern; old town and new, wide streets and 
narrow, we search them in vain for any of 
those vestiges of past times which in some 
cities meet us at every step. Compare Trieste 
with Aneona;* we miss the arch of Trajan on 
the haven; we miss the cupola of Saint Cyriacus 
soaring in triumph above the triumphal monu- 
ment of the heathen. We pass through the 
stately streets of the newer town, we thread 
the steep ascents which lead us to the older 
town above, and we nowhere light on any of 
those little scraps of ornamental' architecture, 
a window, a doorway, a column, which meet us 
at every step in so many of the cities of 
Italy. 

Yet the monumental wealth of Trieste is 
all but equal to the monumental wealth of 
Aneona. At Aneona we have the cathedral 
«hurch and the triumphal arch; so we have at 
Trieste; tho at Trieste we have nothing to 
set against the grand front of the lower and 

*An ancient Italian town on the Adriatic, founded 
l»y Syracusans about 300 B.C. and still an important 
seaport. 

11 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

smaller church of Ancona. But at Ancona arch and 
duomo both stand out before all eyes; at Trieste 
both have to be looked for. The church of 
Saint Justus at Trieste crowns the hill as well 
as the church of Saint Cyriacus at Ancona; 
but it does not in the same way proclaim its 
presence. The castle, with its ugly modern for- 
tifications, rises again above the church; and 
the duomo of Trieste, with its shapeless outline 
and its low, heavy, unsightly campanile, does 
not catch the eyes like the Greek cross and 
cupola of Ancona. 

Again at Trieste the arch could never, in its 
best days, have been a rival to the arch at 
Ancona; and now either we have to hunt it out 
by an effort, or else it comes upon us suddenly, 
standing, as it does, at the head of a mean 
street on the ascent to the upper town. Of a 
truth it can not compete with Ancona or with 
Rimini, with Orange* or with Aosta. But the 
duomo, utterly unsightly as it is in a general 
view, puts on quite a new character when we 
first see the remains of pagan times imprisoned 
in the lower stage of the heavy campanile, 
still more so when we take our first glance of 
its wonderful interior. At the first glimpse we 
see that here there is a mystery to be un- 
raveled; and as we gradually find the clue to 
the marvelous changes which it has undergone, 
we feel that outside show is not everything, 
and that, in point both of antiquity and of in- 

*The city in Provence where have survived a beau- 
tiful Roman arch and a stupendous Roman theater 
in which classical plays are still given each year by 
actors from the Theatre Frangais. 

12 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

terest, tho not of actual beauty, the double 
basilica of Trieste may claim no mean place 
among buildings of its own type. Even after 
the glories of Rome and Ravenna, the Terges- 
tine church may be studied with no small pleas- 
ure and profit, as an example of a kind of 
transformation of which neither Rome nor 
Ravenna can supply another example. . . . 

The other ancient relic at Trieste is the small 
triumphal arch. On one side it keeps its 
Corinthian pilasters; on the other they are im- 
bedded in a house. The arch is in a certain 
sense double; but the two are close together, 
and touch in the keystone. The Roman date 
of this arch can not be doubted; but legends 
connect it both with Charles the Great and 
with Richard of Poitou and of England, a 
prince about whom Tergestine fancy has been 
very busy. The popular name of the arch is 
Arco Riccardo. 

Such, beside some fragments in the museum, 
are all the remains that the antiquary will find 
in Trieste; not much in point of number, but, 
in the case of the duomo at least, of surpassing 
interest in their own way. But the true merit 
of Trieste is not in anything that it has itself, 
its church, its arch, its noble site. Placed 
there at the head of the gulf, on the borders 
of two great portions of the Empire, it leads 
to the land which produced that line of famous 
lUyrian Emperors who for a while checked the 
advance of our own race in the world's his- 
tory, and it leads specially to the chosen home 
of the greatest among them.* The chief glory of 

*Diocletian. 

13 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

Trieste, after all, is that it is the way t« 
Spalato. . . . 

At Pola the monuments of Pietas Julia 
claim the first place; the basilica, tho not 
without a certain special interest, comes long 
after them. The character of the place is fix!t 
by the first sight of it; we see the present and 
we see the more distant past; the Austrian 
navy is to be seen, and the amphitheater is to 
be seen. But intermediate times have little to 
show; if the duomo strikes the eye at all, it 
strikes it only by the extreme ugliness of its 
outside, nor is there anything very taking, noth- 
ing like the picturesque castle of Pirano, in the 
works which occupy the site of the colonial 
capitol. The duomo should not be forgotten; 
even the church of Saint Francis is worth a 
glance; but it is in the remains of the Roman 
colony, in the amphitheater, the arches, the 
temples, the fragments preserved in that temple 
which serves, as at Nimes,* for a museum, that 
the real antiquarian wealth of Pola lies. . . . 

The known history of Pola begins with the 
Roman conquest of Istria in 178 B.C. The 
town became a Roman colony and a flourishing 
seat of commerce. Its action on the republican 
side in the civil war brought on it the ven- 
geance of the second Caesar. But the destroyer 
became the restorer, and Pietas Julia, in the 
height of its greatness, far surpassed the ex- 
tent either of the elder or the younger Pola. 
Like all cities of this region, Pola kept up its 
importance down to the days of the Carlovingiaa 

*A reference to the exquisite Maison CarrSe of Nimes. 

14 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

Empire, the specially flourishing time of the 
whole district being that of Gothic and Byzan- 
tine dominion at Ravenna. A barbarian king, 
the iloxolan Rasparasanus, is said to have with- 
drawn to Pola after the submission of his na- 
tion to Hadrian; and the panegyrists of the 
Flavian house rank Pola along with Trier and 
Autun among the cities which the princes of 
that house had adorned or strengthened. But 
in the history of their dynasty the name of the 
city chiefly stands out as the chosen place for 
the execution of princes whom it was convenient 
to put out of the way. 

Here Crispus died at the bidding of Con- 
stantine, and Gallus at the bidding of Con- 
stantius. Under Theodoric, Pola doubtless 

shared that general prosperity of the Istrian 
land on which Cassiodorus grows eloquent when 
writing to its inhabitants. In the next genera- 
tion Pola appears in somewhat of the same 
character which has come back to it in our 
own times; it was there that Belisarius gathered 
the Imperial fleet for his second and less pros- 
perous expedition against the Gothic lords of 
Italy. But, after the break up of the Prankish 
Empire, the history of medieval Pola is but a 
history of decline. It was, in the geography of 
Dante, the furthest city of Italy; but, like 
most of the other cities of its own neighbor- 
hood, its day of greatness had passed away 
when Dante sang. 

Tossed to and fro between the temporal and 
spiritual lords who claimed to be marquesses 
of Istria, torn by the dissensions of aristocratic 
and popular parties among its own citizens, 

15 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

Pola found rest, the rest of bondage, in sub- 
mission to the dominion of Saint Mark in 1331."^ 
Since then, till its new birth in our own times, 
Pola has been a failing city. Like the other 
Istrian and Dalmatian towns, modern revolu- 
tions have handed it over from Venice to Aus- 
tria, from Austria to France, from France to 
Austria again. It is under its newest masters 
that Pola has at last begun to live a fresh 
life, and the haven whence Belisariust sailed 
forth has again become a haven in more than 
name, the cradle of the rising navy of the 
united Austrian and Hungarian realm. 

That haven is indeed a noble one. Few 
sights are more striking than to see the huge 
mass of the amphitheater at Pola seeming to 
rise at once out of the land-locked sea. As 
Pola is seen now, the amphitheater is the one 
monument of its older days, which strikes the 
eye in the general view, and which divides at- 
tention with signs that show how heartily the 
once forsaken city has entered on its new ca- 
reer. But in the old time Pola could show all 
the buildings which befitted its rank as a colony 
of Rome. The amphitheater, of course, stood 
without the walls; the city itself stood at the 
foot and on the slope of the hill which was 
crowned by the capitol of the colony, where 
the modern fortress rises above the Franciscan 
church. Parts of the Roman wall still stand; 
one of its gates is left; another has left a 
neighbor and a memory. . . . 

*That is, of Venice. 

tThe famous general of the Emperor Justinian, re- 
puted to have become blind and been neglected in 
his old age. 

16 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

Travelers are sometimes apt to complain, and 
that not wholly without reason, that all amphi- 
theaters are very like one another. At Pola 
this remark is less true than elsewhere, as the 
amphitheater there has several marked peculiar- 
ities of its own. We do not pretend to ex- 
pound all its details scientifically; but this we 
may say, that those who dispute — if the dispute 
still goes on — about various points as regards 
the Coliseum at Rome will do well to go and 
look for some further light in the amphithea- 
ter of Pola. The outer range, which is wonder- 
fully perfect, while the inner arrangements 
are fearfully ruined, consists, on the side 
toward the town, of two rows of arches, with 
a third story with square-headed openings above 
them. 

But the main peculiarity in the outside is to 
be found in four tower-like projections, not, as 
at Aries and Nimes, signs of Saracenic occupa- 
tion, but clearly parts of the original design. 
Many conjectures have been made about them; 
they look as if they were means of approach 
to the upper part of the building; but it is 
wisest not to be positive. But the main pecu- 
liarity of this amphitheater is that it lies on 
the slope of a hill, which thus supplied a nat- 
ural basement for the seats on one side only. 
But this same position swallowed up the lower 
arcade on this side, and it hindered the usual 
works underneath the seats from being car- 
ried into this part of the building. 



VI— 2 17 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 



SPALATO* 

BY EDWAED A. FREEMAN 

The main object and center of all historical 
and architectural inquiries on the Dalmatian 
coast is, of course, the home of Diocletian, 
the still abiding palace of Spalato. From a 
local point of view, it is the spot which the 
greatest of the long line of renowned Illyrian 
Emperors chose as his resting-place from the 
toils of warfare and government, and where he 
reared the vastest and noblest dwelling that 
«ver arose at the bidding of a single man. 
From an ecumenical point of view, Spalato 
is yet more. If it does not rank with Rome, 
Old and New, with Ravenna and with Trier, 
it is because it never was, like them, an actual 
seat of empire. But it not the less marks a 
stage, and one of the greatest stages, in the 
history of the Empire. 

On his own Dalmatian soil, Docles of Salone, 
Diocletian of Rome, was the man who had won 
fame for his own land, and who, on the throne 
of the world, did not forget his provincial birth- 
place. In the sight of Rome and of the world 
Jovius Augustus was more than this. Alike in 
the history of politics and in the history of art, 
he has left his mark on all time that has come 
after him, and it is on his own Spalato that 
his mark has been most deeply stamped. The 
polity of Rome and the architecture of Rome 
alike received a new life at his hands. In each 

*From "Sketches from the Subject and Neighbour 
Lands of Venice." Published by the Macmillan Co. 

18 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

alike he cast away shams and pretenses, and 
made the true construction of the fabric stand 
out before men's eyes. Master of the Rome 
world, if not King, yet more than King, he 
let the true nature of his power be seen, and, 
first among the Caesars, arrayed himself with 
the outward pomp of sovereignty. 

In a smaller man we might have deemed the 
change a mark of weakness, a sign of childish 
delight in gewgaws, titles, and trappings. Such 
could hardly have been the motive in the man 
who, when he deemed that his work was done, 
could cast away both the form and the sub- 
stance of power, and could so steadily with- 
stand all temptations to take them up again. 
It w^as simply that the change was fully 
wrought; that the chief magistrate of the com- 
monwealth had gradually changed into the sov- 
ereign of the Empire; that Imperator, Ceesar, 
and Augustus, once titles lowlier than that of 
King, had now become, as they have ever since 
remained, titles far loftier. The change was 
wrought, and all that Diocletian did was to an- 
nounce the fact of the change to the world. 

Nor did the organizing hand of Jovius con- 
fine its sphere to the polity of the Empire only. 
He built himself a house, and, above all build- 
ers, he might boast himself of the house that 
he had builded. Fast by his own birth-place — a 
meaner soul might have chosen some distant 
spot — Diocletian reared the palace which marks 
a still greater epoch in Roman art than his 
political changes mark in Roman polity. On 
the inmost shore of one of the lake-like inlets 
of the Hadriatic, an inlet guarded almost from 

19 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

sight by tiie great island of Bua at its mouth, 
lay his own Salona, now desolate, then one of 
the great cities of the Roman world. But it 
was not in the city, it was not close under its 
walls, that Diocletian fixt his home. An 
isthmus between the bay of Salona and the outer 
sea cuts off a peninsula, which again throws out 
two horns into the water to form the harbor 
which has for ages supplanted Salona. 

There, not on any hill-top, but on a level spot 
by the coast, with the sea in front, with a 
background of more distant mountains, and with 
one peaked hill rising between the two seas like 
a watch-tower, did Diocletian build the house 
to which he withdrew when he deemed that 
his work of empire was over. And in build- 
ing that house, he won for himself, or for the 
nameless genius Avhom he set at work, a place 
in the history of art worthy to rank alongside 
of Iktinos of Athens and Anthemios of Byzan- 
tium, of William of Durham and of Hugh of 
Lincoln. 

And now the birthplace of Jovius is for- 
saken, but his house still abides, and abides 
in a shape marvelously little shorn of its ancient 
greatness. The name which it still bears comes 
straight from the name of the elder home of 
the Cgesars. The fates of the two spots have 
been in a strange way the converse of one an- 
other. By the banks of the Tiber the city of 
Romulus became the house of a single man; by 
the shores of the Hadriatic the house of a single 
man became a city. The Palatine hill became 
the Palatium of the Caesars, and Palatium was 
the name which was borne by the house of 

20 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

Caesar by the Dalmatian shore. The house be- 
came a city; but its name still clave to it, and 
the house of Jovius still, at least in the mouths 
of its own inhabitants, keeps its name in the 
slightly altered form of Spalato. . . . 

We land with the moon lighting up the 
water, with the stars above us, the northern 
wain shining on the Hadriatic, as if, while 
Diocletian was seeking rest by Salona, the star 
of Constantine was rising over York and Trier. 
Dimly rising above us we see, disfigured indeed, 
but not destroyed, the pillared front of the 
palace, reminding us of the Tabularium of 
Rome's own capitol. We pass under gloomy 
arches, through dark passages and presently we 
find ourselves in the center of palace and city, 
between those two renowned rows of arches 
which mark the greatest of all epochs in the 
history of the building art. We think how the 
man who reorganized the Empire of Rome was 
also the man who first put harmony and con- 
sistency into the architecture of Rome. We 
think that, if it was in truth the crown of 
Diocletian which passed to every Cassar from the 
first Constantius to the last Francis, it was no 
less in the pile which rose into being at his 
word that the germ was planted which grew 
into Pisa and Durham, into Westminster and 
Saint Ouen. 

There is light enough to mark the columns 
put for the first time to their true Roman 
use, and to think how strange was the fate 
which called up on this spot the happy arrange- 
ment which had entered the brain of no earlier 
artist — the arrangement which, but a few years 

21 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

later, was to be applied to another use in the 
basilica of the Lateran and in Saint Paul With- 
out the Walls. Yes, it is in the court of the 
persecutor, the man who boasted that he had 
wiped out the Christian superstition from the 
world, that we see the noblest forestalling of 
the long arcades of the Christian basilica. 

It is with thoughts like these, thoughts press- 
ing all the more upon us where every outline 
is clear and every detail is visible, that we 
tread for the first time the Court of Jovius — r 
the columns with their arches on either side 
of us, the vast bell-tower rising to the sky, as 
if to mock the art of those whose mightiest 
works might still seem only to grovel upon 
earth. Nowhere within the compass of the Ro- 
man world do we find ourselves more distinctly 
in the presence of one of the great minds of 
the world's history; we see that, alike in politics 
and in art, Diocletian breathed a living soul 
into a lifeless body. In the bitter irony of 
the triumphant faith, his mausoleum has be- 
come a church, his temple has become a baptist- 
ery, the great bell-tower rises proudly over his 
own work; his immediate dwelling-place is 
broken down and crowded with paltry houses; 
but the sea-front and the Golden Gate are still 
there amid all disfigurements, and the great peri- 
style stands almost unhurt, to remind us of the 
greatest advance that a single mind ever made 
in the progress of the building art. 

At the present time the city into which the 
house of Diocletian has grown is the largest 
and most growing town of the Dalmatian coast. 
It has had to yield both spiritual and temporal 

22 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

precedence to Zara, but, both in actual popula- 
tion and all that forms the life of a city, 
Spalato greatly surpasses Zara and all its other 
neighbors. The youngest Dalmatian towns, 
which could boast neither of any mythical origin 
nor of any Imperial foundation, the city which, 
as it were, became a city by mere chance, has 
outstript the colonies of Epidauros, of Corinth, 
and of Rome. 

The palace of Diocletian had but one occu- 
pant; after the founder no Emperor had dwelled 
in it, unless we hold that this was the villa 
near Salona where the deposed Emperor Nepos 
was slain, during the patriciate of Odoacer. 
The forsaken palace seems, while still almost 
new, to have become a cloth factory, where 
women worked, and which therefore appears in 
the "Notitia" as a Gynaeeium. But when Sa- 
lona was overthrown, the palace stood ready to 
afford shelter to those who v/ere driven from 
their homes. The palace, in the widest sense 
of the word — for of course its vast circuit took 
in quarters for soldiers and officials of various 
kinds, as well as the rooms actually occupied 
by the Emperor — stood ready to become a city. 

It was a Chester ready made, with its four 
streets, its four gates, all but that toward the 
sea flanked with octagonal towers, and with four 
greater square towers at the corners. To this 
day the circuit of the walls is nearly perfect; 
and the space contained within them must be as 
large as that contained within some of the oldest 
chesters in our own island. The walls, the towers, 
the gates, are those of a city rather than of a 

23 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

house. Two of the gates, tho their towers are 
gone, are nearly perfect; the "porta aurea," with 
its graceful ornaments; the "porta ferrea" in its 
stern plainness, strangely crowned with its small 
campanile of later days perched on its top. 
Within the walls, besides the splendid buildings 
which still remain, besides the broken-down 
walls and chambers which formed the im- 
mediate dwelling-place of the founder, the main 
streets were lined with massive arcades, large 
parts of which still remain. 

Diocletian, in short, in building a house, had 
built a city. In the days of Constantine Por- 
phyrogenitus it was a "Kaotpov" — Greek and 
English had by his day alike borrowed the Latin 
name; but it was a "Kaotpov" which Diocle- 
tian had built as his own house, and within 
which was his hall and palace. In his day the 
city bore the name of Aspalathon, which he 
explains to mean "little palace.'' When the 
palace had thus become a common habitation of 
men, it is not wonderful that all the more 
private buildings whose use had passed away 
were broken down, disfigured, and put to mean 
uses. 

The work of building over the site must 
have gone on from that day to this. The view 
in Wheeler shows several parts of the enclos- 
ure occupied by ruins which are now covered 
with houses. The real wonder is that so much 
has been spared and has survived to our own 
days. And we are rather surprised to find Con- 
stantine saying that in his time the greater part 
had been destroyed. For the parts which must 
always have been the stateliest remain still. 

24 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

The great open court, the peristyle, with its 
arcades, have become the public plaza of the 
town; the mausoleum on one side of it and the 
temple on the other were preserved and put 
to Christian uses. 

We say the mausoleum, for we fully accept 
the suggestion made by Professor Glavinich, 
the curator of the museum of Spalato, that 
the present duomo, traditionally called the 
Temple of Jupiter, was not a temple, but a 
mausoleum. These must have been the great 
public buildings of the palace, and, with the 
addition of the bell-tower, they remain the chief 
public buildings of the modern city. But, tho 
the ancient square of the palace remains won- 
derfully perfect, the modem city, with its Vene- 
tian defenses, its Venetian and later buildings, 
has spread itself far beyond the walls of Diocle- 
tian. But those walls have made the history 
of Spalato, and it is the great buildings which 
stand within them that give Spalato its special 
place in the history of architecture. 



RAGUSA* 

BY HARRY DE WINDT 

Viewed from the sea, and at first sight, the 
place somewhat resembles Monte Carlo with 
its white villas, palms, and background of 
rugged, gray hills. But this is the modern 
portion of the town, outside the fortifications, 

*Prom "Through Savage Europe." Published by 
J. B. Liippincott Co. 

25 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

erected many centuries ago. Within them lies 
the real Ragnsa — a wonderful old city which 
teems with interest, for its time-worn buildings 
and picturesque streets recall, at every turn, 
the faded glories of this "South Slavonic 
Athens." A bridge across the moat which pro- 
tects the old city is the Hnk between the pres- 
ent and past. In new Ragusa you may sit on 
the crowded esplanade of a fashionable water- 
ing place; but pass through a frowning arch- 
way into the old town, and, save in the main 
street, which has modem shops and other up- 
to-date surroundings, you might be living in the 
dark ages. For as far back as in the ninth 
century Ragusa was the capital of Dalmatia 
and an independent republic, and since that 
period her literary and commercial triumphs, 
and the tragedies she has survived in the shape 
of sieges, earthquakes, and pestilence, render 
the records of this little-known state almost as 
engrossing as those of ancient Rome. 

Until I came here I had pictured a squalid 
Eastern place, devoid of ancient or modern in- 
terest; most of my fellow-countrymen probably 
do likewise, nothwithstanding the fact that 
when London was a small and obscure town 
Ragusa was already an important center of 
commerce and civilization. The republic was 
always a peaceful one, and its people excelled 
in trade and the fine arts. Thus, as early as 
the fourteenth century the Ragusan fleet was 
the envy of the world; its vessels were then 
known as Argusas to British mariners, and the 
English word "Argosy" is probably derived 
from the name. 

26 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

These tiny ships went far afield — to the 
Levant and Northern Europe, and even to the 
Indies — a voyage frought, in those days, with 
much peril. At this epoch Ragusa had achieved 
a mercantile prosperity unequalled throughout 
Europe, but in later years the greater part of 
the fleet joined and perished with the Spanish 
Armada. 

And this catastrophe was the precursor of a 
series of national disasters. In 1667 the city 
was laid waste by an earthquake which killed 
over twenty thousand people, and this was 
followed by a terrible visitation of the plague, 
which further decimated the population. Ra- 
gusa, however, was never a large city, and 
even at its zenith, in the sixteenth century, it 
numbered under forty thousand souls, and now 
contains only about a third of that number. 

In 1814 the Vienna Congress finally deprived 
the republic of its independence, and it be- 
came (with Dalmatia) an Austrian possession. 
Trade has not increased here of recent years, 
as in Herzegovina and Bosnia. The harbor, at 
one time one of the most important ports in 
Europe, is too small and shallow for modern 
shipping, and the oil industry, once the back- 
bone of the place, has sadly dwindled of late 
years. 

Ragiisa itself now having no harbor 
worthy of the name, the traveler by sea must 
land at Gravosa about a mile north of the old 
city. Gravosa is merely a suburb of ware- 
houses, shipping, and sailor-men, as unattractive 
as the London Docks, and the Hotel Petko 
swarmed with mosquitoes and an animal which 

27 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

seems to thrive and flourish throughout the 
Balkan States — the rat. 

The old Custom House is perhaps the most 
beautiful building in Ragusa, and is one of the 
few which survived the terrible earthquake of 
1667. The structure bears the letters "I. H. S." 
over the principal entrance in commemoration 
of this fact. Its courtyard is a dream of beauty, 
and the stone galleries around it are surrounded 
with inscriptions of great age. 

Ragusa is a Slav town, but altho the name of 
streets appear in Slavonic characters, Italian 
is also spoken on every side and the "Stradone," 
with its arcades and narrow precipitous alleys 
at right angles, is not unlike a street in 
Naples. The houses are built in small blocks, 
as a protection against earthquakes — the terror 
of every Ragusan (only mention the word and 
he will cross himself) — and here on a fine 
Sunday morning you may see Dalmatians, Al- 
banians, and Herzegovinians in their gaudiest 
finery, while here and there a wild-eyed Mon- 
tenegrin, armed to the teeth, surveys the gay 
scene with a scowl, of shyness rather than ill- 
humor. 

Outside the cafe, on the Square (where 
flocks of pigeons whirl around as at St. Mark's 
in Venice), every little table is occupied; but 
here the women are gowned in the latest Vienna 
fashions, and Austrian uniforms predominate. 
And the sun shines as warmly as in June (on 
this 25th day of March), and the cathedral 
bells chime a merry accompaniment to a mili- 
tary band; a sky of the brightest blue gladdens 
the eye, fragrant flowers the senses, and the 

28 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

traveler sips his bock or mazagran, and thanks 
his stars he is not spending the winter in cold, 
foggy England. Refreshments are served by a 
white-aproned gargon, and street boys are selling 
the "Daily Mail" and *'Gil Bias," just as they 
are on the far-away boulevards of Paris. 



CATTARO* 

BY EDWARD A. FREEMAN- 

The end of a purely Dalmatian pilgrimage 
will be Cattaro. He who goes further along 
the coast will pass into lands that have a his- 
tory, past and present, which is wholly distinct 
from that of the coast which he has hitherto 
traced from Zara — we might say from Capo 
d'Istria — onward. We have not reached the 
end of the old Venetian dominion — for that we 
must carry our voyage to Crete and Cyprus. 
But we have reached the end of the nearly 
continuous Venetian dominion — the end of the 
coast which, save at two small points, was either 
Venetian or Regusan — the end of that territory 
of the two maritime commonwealths which they 
kept down to their fall in modern times, and in 
which they have been succeeded by the modern 
Dalmatian kingdom. . . . 

The city stands at the end of an inlet of 
the sea fifteen or twenty miles long, and it 
has mountains around it so high that it is only 
in fair summer weather that the sun can be 

*From "Sketches from the Subject and Neighbour 
Lands of Venice." Published by the Macmillan Co. 

29 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

seen; in winter Cattaro never enjoys his 
presence. There certainly is no place where it 
is harder to believe that the smooth waters of 
the narrow, lake-like inlet, with mountains on 
each side which it seems as if one could put 
out one's hand and touch, are really part of 
the same sea which dashes against the rocks 
of ilagusa. They end in a meadow-like coast 
jh makes one think of Bourget or Trasi- 

enus rather than of Hadria. The Dalmatian 
voyage is well ended by the sail along the 
Bocche, the loveliest piece of inland sea which 
can be conceived, and whose shores are as rich 
in curious bits of political history as they are 
in scenes of surpassing natural beauty. 

The general history of the district consists 
in the usual tossing to and fro between the 
various powers which have at different times 
been strong in the neighborhood. Cattaro was 
in the reign of Basil the Macedonian besieged 
and taken by Saracens, who presently went on 
unsuccessfully to besiege Ragusa. And, as un- 
der Byzantine rule it was taken by Saracens, 
so under Venetian rule it was more than once 
besieged by Turks. In the intermediate stages 
we get the usual alternations of independence 
and of subjection to all the neighboring powers 
in turn, till in 1419 Cattaro finally became 
Venetian. At the fall of the republic it be- 
came part of the Austrian share of the spoil. 
When the spoilers quarreled, it fell to France. 
When England, Russia, and Montenegro were 
allies, the city joined the land of which it 
naturally forms the head, and Cattaro became 
the Montenegrin haven and capital. When 

30 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

France was no longer dangerous, and the powers 
of Europe c^me together to parcel out other 
men's goods, Austria calmly asked for Cattaro 
back again, and easily got it. 

In the city of Cattaro the Orthodox Church 
is still in a minority, but it is a minority not 
far short of a majority. Outside its walls, the 
Orthodox outnumber the Catholics. In short, 
when we reach Cattaro, we have very little 
temptation to fancy ourselves in Italy or in 
any part of Western Christendom. We not 
only know, but feel, that we are on the Byzan- 
tine side of the Hadriatic; that we have, in 
fact, made our way into Eastern Europe. 

And East and West, Slav and Italian, New 
Rome and Old, might well struggle for the 
possession of the land and of the water through 
which we pass from Ragusa to our final goal 
at Cattaro. The strait leads us into a gulf; 
another narrow strait leads us into an inner 
gulf; and on an inlet again branching out of 
that inner gulf lies the furthest of Dalmatian 
cities. The lower city, Cattaro itself, seems 
to lie so quietly, so peacefully, as if in a 
world of its own from which nothing beyond 
the shores of its own Bocche could enter, that 
we are tempted to forget, not only that the spot 
has been the scene of so many revolutions 
through so many ages, but that it is even now 
a border city, a city on the marchland of 
contending powers, creeds, and races. . . . 

The city of Cattaro itself is small, stand- 
ing on a narrow ledge between the gulf and 
the base of the mountain. It carries the fea- 
tures of the Dalmatian cities to what any one 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

who has not seen Trail will call their extreme 
point. But, tho the streets of Cattaro are nar- 
row, yet they are civilized and airy-looking 
compared with those of Traii, and the little 
paved squares, as so often along this coast, 
suggest the memory of the ruling city. 

The memory of Venice is again called up by 
the graceful little scraps of its characteristic 
architecture which catch the eye ever and anon 
among the houses of Cattaro. The landing- 
place, the marina, the space between the coast 
and the Venetian wall, where we pass for the 
last time under the winged lion over the gate, 
has put on the air of a boulevard. But the 
forms and costume of Bocchesi and Montene- 
grins, the men of the gulf, with their arms in 
their girdles, no less than the men of the 
black mountain, banish all thought that we are 
anywhere but where we really are, at one of 
the border points of Christian and civilized 
Europe. If in the sons of the mountains we see 
the men who have in all ages held out against 
the invading Turk, we see in their brethren of 
the coast the men who, but a few years back, 
brought Imperial, Royal, and Apostolic Majesty 
to its knees. . . . 

At Cattaro the Orthodox Church is on its 
own ground, standing side by side on equal 
terms with its Latin rival, pointing to lands 
where the Filioque* is unknown and where the 
Bishop of the Old Rome has even been deemed 
an intruder. The building itself is a small 
Byzantine church, less Byzantine in fact in its 

*That is, lands where the Greek Church prevails. 

32 



AUSTRIA'S ADRIATIC PORTS 

outline than the small churches of the Byzan- 
tine type at Zara, Spalato, and Trail. The 
single dome rises, not from the intersection of 
a Greek cross, but from the middle of a single 
body, and, resting as it does on pointed arches, 
it suggests the thought of Perigueux! and An- 
gouleme. But this arrangement, which is shared 
by a neighboring Latin church, is well known 
throughout the East. 

The Latin duomo, which has been minutely 
described by Mr. Neale,* is of quite another 
type, and is by no means Dalmatian in its 
general look. A modern west front with two 
western towers does not go for much; but it 
reminds us that a design of the same kind was 
begun at Trail in better times. The inside is 
quite unlike anything of later Italian work. 

The traveler whose objects are of a 
more general kind turns away from this border 
church of Christendom as the last stage of a 
pilgrimage unsurpassed either for natural beauty 
or for historic interest. And, as he looks up at 
the mountain which rises almost close above 
the east end of the duomo of Cattaro, and 
thinks of the landf and the men to which the 
path over that mountain leads, he feels that, 
on this frontier at least, the spirit still lives 
which led English warriors to the side of Man- 
uel Komnenos, and which steeled the heart of 
the last Constantine to die in the breach for 
the Roman name and the faith of Christendom. 

*John Mason Neale, author of "An Introduction to 
the History of the Holy Eastern Chvirch." 
fMontenegro. 

VI— 3 33 



VIII 

OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 

CRACOW* 

BY MENIE MURIEL DOWIE 

Cracow, old, tired and dispirited, speaks and 
thinks only of the ruinous past. When you 
drive into Cracow from the station for the first 
time, you are breathless, smiling, and tearful 
all at once; in the great Ring-platz — a mass 
of old buildings — Cracow seems to hold out her 
arms to you — those long sides that open from 
the corner where the cab drives in. You do 
not have time to notice separately the row of 
small trees down on one side, beneath which 
bright-colored women-figures control their weekly 
market; you do not notice the sort of court- 
house in the middle with its red roof, cream- 
colored galleries and shops beneath; you do not 
notice the gi'eat tall church at one side of brick 
and stone most perfectly time-reconciled, or the 
houses, or the crazed paving, or the innocent 
little groups of cabs — you only see Cracow hold- 
ing out her arms to you, and you may lean down 
your head and weep from pure instinctive 
sympathy. 

*From "A Girl in the Karpathians." After publish- 
ing this book, Miss Dowie became the wife of Henry 
Norman, the author and traveler. 

34 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

Suddenly a choir of trumpets breaks out into 
a chorale from the big church tower; the 
melancholy of it I shall never forget — the very 
melody seemed so old and tired, so worn and 
sweet and patient, like Cracow. Those trumpet 
notes have mourned in that tower for hundreds 
of years. It is the Hymn of Timeless Sorrow 
that they play, and the key to which they are 
attuned in Cracow's long despair. Hush! That 
is her voice, the old town's voice, high and 
sad — she is speaking to you. 

Dear Cracow! Never again it seems to me, 
shall I come so near to the deathless hidden 
sentiment of Poland as in those first moments. 
It would be no use to tell her to take heart, 
that there may be brighter days coming, and 
so forth. Lemberg may feel so, Lemberg that 
has the feelings of any other big new town, the 
strength and the determination; but Cracow's 
day was in the long ago, as a gay capital, a 
brilliant university town full of princes, of 
daring, of culture, of wit. She has outlived 
her day, and can only mourn over what has 
been and the times that she has seen; she may 
be always proud of her character, of the brave 
blood that has made scarlet her streets, but 
she can never be happy remodeled as an Aus- 
trian garrison town, and in the new Poland — 
the Poland whose foundation stones are laid in 
the hearts of her people, and that may yet 
be built some day — in that new Poland there 
will be no place for aristocratic, high-bred Cra- 
cow. 

During my stay in the beautiful butter-colored 
palace that is now a hotel, I went round the 

So 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

museums, galleries, and universities, most if not 
all of which are free to the public. It would 
be unfair to give the idea that Cracow has com- 
pletely fallen to decay. This is not the case. 
Austria has erected some very handsome build- 
ings; and a town with such fine pictures, good 
museums, and two universities, can not be com- 
plained of as moribund. At the same time, I 
can only record faithfully my impression, and 
that was that everything new, everything mod- 
ern, was hopelessly out of tone in Cracow; 
progress, which, tho desirable, may be a vulgar 
thing, would not suit her, and does not seem 
at home in her streets. 

About the Florian's Thor, with its round 
towers of old, sorrel-colored brick, and the 
Czartoryski Museum, there is nothing to say 
that the guide-book would not say better. In 
the museum, a tattered Polish flag of red silk, 
with the white eagle, a cheerful bird with curled 
tail, opened mouth, chirping defiantly to the left, 
imprest me, and a portrait of Szopen (Chopin) 
in fine profile when laid out dead. For amuse- 
ment, there was a Paul Potter bull beside a Paul 
Potter willow, delightfully unconscious of a com- 
ing Paul Potter thunderstorm, and a miniature of 
Shakespeare which did not resemble any of the 
portraits of him that I am familiar with. Any 
amount of Turkish trappings and reminiscences 
of Potocki and Koseiuszko, of course. As I had 
no guide-book, I am quite prepared to learn that 
I overlooked the most important relics. 

In the cathedral, away up on the hill of 
Wawel, above the river Vistula (Wisla) I prowled 
about among the crypts with a curious specimen 

36 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



of beadledom who ran off long unintelligible his- 
tories in atrocious Viennese patois about every 
solemn tomb by which we stood. So far as I 
was concerned it might just as well have been 
the functionary who herds small droves of 
visitors in Westminster Abbey. I never listen 
to these people, because (1) I do not care to 
be informed; and (2) since I should never re- 
member what they said, it is useless my even 
letting it in at one ear. The kindly, cobwebby 
old person who piloted me among those wonder- 
ful kings' graves in Cracow was personally not 
uninteresting, indeed a fine study, and his 
rigmaroles brought up infallibly upon three 
vv^ords which I could not fail to notice: these 
were "silberner Sarg vergoldet" (silver coffin, 
gilded). It had an odd fascination for me this 
phrase, as I stood always waiting for it; why, I 
wondered, should anybody want to gild a good 
solid silver coffin? 

At the time of my first visit, the ex- 
cavation necessary to form the crypt for the 
resting-place of Mickiewicz* was in progress, and 
I went in among the limey, dusty workmen, 
with their tallow candles, and looked round. 
In return for my gulden, the beadle gave me 
a few immortelles from Sobieski's tomb, and 
some laurel leaves from Kosciuszko's ; and re- 
membering friends at home of refinedly ghoulish 
tastes, I determined to preserve those poor 
moldering fragments for them. 

Most of my days and evenings I spent wan- 
dering by the Vistula and in and out of the 

*One of Poland's greatest poets. 

37 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

hundred churches. My plan was to sight a 
spire, and then walk to the root of it, so to 
speak. In this manner I saw the town very 
well. The houses were of brick and plaster, 
the rich carmine-red brick that has made Cra- 
cow so beautiful. On each was a beautiful 
fagade, and pediments in renaissance, bas-relief 
work of cupids, and classic figures with ribands 
and roses tying among them, seeming to speak, 
somehow, of the dead princes and the mighty 
aristocracy which had cost Cracow so dear. 

In the Jews' quarter that loud lifelong mar- 
ket of theirs was going forward, which re- 
quired seemingly onlj some small basinfuls of 
sour Gurken and a few spoonfuls of beans of its 
stock-in-trade. Mingling among the Jews were 
the peasants, of course; the men in tightly fit- 
ting trousers of white blanket cloth, rich em- 
broidered on the upper part and down the 
seams in blue and red; the women wearing pink 
printed muslin skirts, often with a pale blue 
muslin apron and a lemon-colored fine wool 
cloth, spotted in pink, upon the head. They 
manifested a great appreciation of color, but 
none of form, and after the free dress of the 
Hucal women, these people, mummied in their 
red tartan shawls — all hybrid Stewarts, they 
seemed to me — were merely bright bundles in the 
sunshine. 

In the shops in Cracow, French was nearly 
always the language of attack, and a good 
deal was spoken in the hotel. I had occasion 
to buy a great many things, but, according to 
my custom, not a photogTaph was among them; 
therefore, when I go back, I shall receive per- 

38 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



fectly new and fresh impressions of the place, 
and can cherish no vague memories, encouraged 
by an album at home, in which the nameless 
cathedrals of many countries confuse them- 
selves, and only the Coliseum at Rome stands 
forth, not to be contradicted or misnamed. 

But it became necessary to put a period to 
my wandering, unless I wished to find myself 
stranded in Vienna with "neither cross nor 
pile." The references to money-matters have 
been designedly slight throughout these pages. 
It is not my habit to keep accounts. I have 
never found that you get any money back by 
knowing just how you have spent it, and a 
conscience-pricking record of expenses is very 
ungrateful reading. So, when a certain beauti- 
ful evening came, I felt that I had to look 
upon it as my last. Being too early for the 
train, I bid the man drive about in the early 
summer dark for three-quarters of an hour. 

To such as do not care for precise information 
and statistics in foreign places, but appreciate 
rather atmosphere and impression, I can recom- 
mend this course. In and out among the 
pretty garden woods, outside the town, we 
drove. Buildings loomed majestically out of 
the night; sometimes it was the tower of an 
unknown church, sometimes it was the house 
of some forgotten family that sprang sugges- 
tively to the eye, and I was grateful that I was 
left to suppose the indefinite type of Austrian 
bureau, which occupied, in all probability, the 
first floor. Then we came to the river, and 
later, Wawel stood massed out black upon the 
blue, the glorious gravestone of a fallen Power. 

39 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

All the stars were shining, and little red-yel- 
low lights in the castle windows were not much 
bigger. Above the whisper of the willows on 
its bank came the deep, quiet murmur of the 
Vistula, and every now and then, over the 
several towers of the solemn old palaces and 
the spires of the church where Poland has 
laid her kings, and so recently the king of the 
poets, the stars were dropping from their places, 
like sudden spiders, letting themselves down into 
the vast by faint yellow threads that showed a 
•moment after the star itself was gone. 

Later, as I looked from the open gallery of 
the train that was taking me away, I could 
not help thinking that, just a hundred years 
ago, Wawel's star was shining with a light 
bright enough for all Europe to see; but even 
as the stars fell that night and left their places 
empty, so Wawel's star has fallen and Poland's 
^tar has fallen too. 



ON THE ROAD TO PRAGUE* 

BY BAYAED TAYLOR 

I was pleasantly disappointed on entering 
Bohemia. Instead of a dull, uninteresting 
country, as I expected, it is a land full of the 
most lovely scenery. There is everything which 
can gratify the eye — high blue mountains, val- 
leys of the sweetest pastoral look and romantic 
old ruins. The very name of Bohemia is as- 

*From "Views Afoot." Published by G. P. Putnam's 
Sons. 

40 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



soeiated with wild and wonderful legends of 
the rude barbaric ages. Even the chivalric 
tales of the feudal times of Germany grow 
tame beside these earlier and darker histories. 
The fallen fortresses of the Rhine or the rob- 
ber-castles of the Odenwald had not for me so 
exciting an interest as the shapeless ruins cum- 
bering these lonely mountains. The civilized 
Saxon race was left behind; I saw around me 
the features and heard the language of one of 
those rude Slavonic tribes whose original home 
was on the vast steppes of Central Asia. 

I have rarely enjoyed traveling more than our 
first two days' journey toward Prague. The 
range of the Erzgebirge ran along on our 
right; the snow still lay in patches upon it, but 
the valleys between, with their little clusters 
of white cottages, were green and beautiful. 
About six miles before reaching Teplitz we 
passed Kulm, the great battlefield which in a 
measure decided the fate of Napoleon. He 
sent Vandamme with forty thousand men to at- 
tack the allies before they could unite their 
forces, and thus effect their complete destruc- 
tion. Only the almost despairing bravery of 
the Russian guards under Ostermann, who held 
him in cheek till the allied troops united, pre- 
vented Napoleon's design. At the junction of 
the roads, where the fighting was hottest, the 
Austrians have erected a monument to one of 
their generals. Not far from it is that of 
Prussia, simple and tasteful. A woody hill near, 
with the little village of Kulm at its foot, 
was the station occupied by Vandamme at the 
commencement of the battle. There is now a 



41 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 



beautiful chapel on its summit which can be 
seen far and wide. A little distance farther 
the Czar of Russia has erected a third monu- 
ment, to the memory of the Russians who fell. 
Four lions rest on the base of the pedestal, 
and on the top of the shaft, forty-five feet high, 
Victory is represented as engraving the date, 
"Aug. 30, 1813," on a shield. The dark pine- 
covered mountains on the right overlook the 
whole field and the valley of Torlitz; Napoleon 
rode along their crests several days after the 
battle to witness the scene of his defeat. 

Teplitz lies in a lovely valley, several miles 
wide, bounded by the Bohemian mountains, on 
©ne side and the Erzgebirge on the other. One 
straggling peak near is crowned with a picturesque 
ruin, at whose foot the spacious bath-build- 
ings lie half hidden in foliage. As we went 
down the principal street I noticed nearly every 
house was a hotel; we learned afterward that 
in summer the usual average of visitors is 
five thousand.* The waters resemble those of 
the celebrated Carlsbad; they are warm and 
practically efficacious in rheumatism and diseases 
©f like character. After leaving Teplitz the 
road turned to the east, toward a lofty mountain 
which we had seen the morning before. The 
peasants, as they passed by, saluted us with 
''Christ greet you!" 

We stopt for the night at the foot of the 
peak called the Milleschauer, and must have 
ascended nearly two thousand feet, for we had 
a wide view the next morning, altho the mists 

*The population now (1914) is 24,000. 

42 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



and clouds hid the half of it. The weather 
being so unfavorable, we concluded not to as- 
cend, and descended through green fields and or- 
chards snowy with blossoms to Lobositz, on the 
Elbe. Here we reached the plains again, where 
everything wore the lux*uriance of summer; it 
Avas a pleasant change from the dark and rough 
scenery we left. 

The road passed through Theresienstadt, the 
fortress of Northern Bohemia. The little city 
is surrounded by a double wall and moat which 
can be filled with water, rendering it almost 
impossible to be taken. In the morning we 
were ferried over the Moldau, and after jour- 
neying nearly all day across barren, elevated 
plains saw, late in the afternoon, the sixty- 
seven spires of Prague below. 

I feel out of the world in this strange, fantastic, 
yet beautiful, old city. We have been rambling 
all morning through its winding streets, stopping 
sometimes at a church to see the dusty tombs 
and shrines or to hear the fine music which 
accompanies the morning mass. I have seen no 
city yet that so forcibly reminds one of the 
past and makes him forget everything but the 
associates connected with the scenes around him. 
The language adds to the illusion. Three- 
fourths of the people in the streets speak Bo- 
hemian and many of the signs are written in 
the same tongue. 

The palace of the Bohemian kings still looks 
down on the city from the western heights, and 
their tombs stand in the cathedral of St. 
John. When one has climbed up the stone 
steps leading to the fortress, there is a glorious 

43 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

prospect before liim. Pra^e with its spires 
and towers lies in the valleys below, through 
which curves the Moldau with its green islands, 
disappearing among the hills which enclose the 
city on every side. The fantastic Byzantine 
architecture of many of the churches and towers 
gives the city a peculiar Oriental appearance; 
it seems to have been transported from the hills 
of Syria. . . . 

Having found out first a few of the locations, 
we haunted our way with difficulty through its 
labyrinths, seeking out every place of note or 
interest. Reaching the bridge at last, we con- 
cluded to cross over and ascend to the Hrad- 
schin, the palace of the Bohemian kings. The 
bridge was commenced in 1357, and was one 
hundred and fifty years in building. That was 
the way the old Germans did their work, and 
they made a structure which will last a thousand 
years longer. Every pier is surmounted with 
groups of saints and martyrs, all so worn and 
timebeaten tha,^. there is little left of their 
beauty, if they ever had any. The most im- 
portant of them — at least to Bohemians — is that 
of St. John Nepomuk, now considered as 
the patron-saint of the land. He was a 
priest many centuries ago [1340-1393] whom one 
of the kings threw from the bridge into the 
Moldau because he refused to reveal to him what 
the queen eonfest. The legend says the body swam 
for some time on the river with five stars around 
its head. 

Ascending the broad flight of steps to the 
Hradschin, I paused a moment to look at the 
scene below. A slight blue haze hung over the 

44 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



clustering towers, and the city looked dim through 
it, like a city seen in a dream. It was well 
that it should so appear, for not less dim and 
misty are the memories that haunt its walls. 
There was no need of a magician's wand to 
bid that light cloud shadow forth the forms 
of other times. They came uncalled for even 
by Fancy. Far, far back in the past I saw 
the warrior-princess who founded the kingly 
city — the renowned Libussa, whose prowess and 
talent inspired the women of Bohemia to rise 
at her death and storm the land that their sex 
might rule where it obeyed before. On the 
mountain opposite once stood the palace of the 
bloody Wlaska, who reigned with her Amazon 
band for seven years over half Bohemia. 
Those streets below had echoed with the fiery 
words of Huss, and the castle of his follower — 
the blind Ziska, who met and defeated the 
armies of the German Empire — molders on the 
mountains above. Many a year of war and 
tempest has passed over the scene. The hills 
around have borne the armies of Wallenstein 
and Frederick the Great ; the war-cry of 
Bavaria, Sweden and Poland has echoed in the 
valley, and the red glare of the midnight can- 
non or the flames of burning palaces have 
often gleamed along the '*blood-dyed waters" 
of the Moldau. . . . 

On the way down again we stept into the St. 
Nicholas Church, which was built by the Jesuits. 
The interior has a rich effect, being all of brown 
and gold. The massive pillars are made to re- 
semble reddish-brown marble, with gilded capi- 
tals, and the statues at the base are profusely 

45 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ornamented in the same style. The music chain- 
ed me there a long time. There was a grand 
organ, assisted by a full orchestra and large choir 
of singers. It was placed above, and at every 
sound of the priest's bell the flourish of trumpets 
and deep roll of the drums filled the dome with 
a burst of quivering sound, while the giant pipes 
of the organ breathed out their full harmony 
and the very air shook under the peal. It was 
like a triumphal strain. The soul became filled 
with thoughts of power and glory; every sense 
was changed into one dim, indistinct emotion of 
rapture which held the spirit as if spellbound. 
Not far from this place is the palace of Wal- 
lenstein, in the same condition as when he in- 
habited it. It is a plain, large building having 
beautiful gardens attached to it, which are open 
to the public. We went through the court- 
yard, threaded a passage with a roof of rough 
stalactitic rock and entered the garden, where 
a revolving fountain was casting up its glitter- 
ing arches. 



THE CAVE OF ADELSBERG* 

BY GEORGE STILLMAN" HILLARD 

The night had been passed at Adelsberg, and 
the morning had been agreeably occupied in ex- 
ploring the wonders of its celebrated cavern. 
The entrance is through an opening in the side 
of a hill. In a few moments, after walking 

♦From "Six Months in Italy." Published by Hough- 
ton, Mifflin Co. 

46 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



down a gentle descent, a sound of flowing water 
is heard, and the light of the torches borne by 
the guides gleams faintly upon a river which 
runs through these sunless chasms, and revisits 
the glimpses of day at Planina, some ten miles 
distant. 

The visitor now finds himself in a vast hall, 
walled and roofed by impenetrable darkness, 
of the stream, which is crossed by a wooden 
bridge; and the ascent on the other side is 
made by a similar flight of steps. The bridge 
and steps are marked by a double row of lights, 
which present a most striking appearance as 
their tremulous luster struggles through the 
night that broods over them. Such a scene re- 
calls Milton's sublime pictures of Pandemonium, 
and shows directly to the eye what effects a 
great imaginative painter may produce with no 
other colors than light and darkness. Here are 
the ^^stately height," the "ample spaces," the "arch- 
ed roof," the rows of "starry lamps and blazing 
cressets" of Satan's hall of council; and by the 
excited fancy the dim distance is easily peopled 
with gigantic foi-ms and filled with the "rushing 
of congregated wings." 

After this, one is led through a variety of 
chambers, differing in size and form, but essen- 
tially similar in character, and the attention is 
invited to the innumerable multitude of strik- 
ing and fantastic objects which have been form- 
ed in the lapse of ages, by the mere dropping 
of water. Pendants hang from the roof, stalag- 
mites grow from the floor like petrified stumps, 
and pillars and buttresses are disposed as oddly 
as in the architecture of a dream. Here, we are 



47 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 



told to admire a bell, and there, a throne; here, 
a pulpit, and there, a butcher's shop; here, "the 
two hearts," and there, a fountain frozen into 
alabaster; and in every case we assent to the 
resemblance in the unquestioning mood of Polo- 
nius. One of the chambers, or halls, is used 
every year as a ball-room, for which purpose it 
has every requisite es:cept an elastic floor, even 
to a natural dais for the orchestra. 

Here, with the sort of pride with which a 
book collector shows a Mazarin Bible or a folio 
Shakespeare, the guides point out a beautiful 
piece of limestone which hangs from the roof 
in folds as delicate as a Cashmere shawl, to 
which the resemblance is made more exact by 
a well-defined border of deeper color than the 
web. Through this translucent curtain the light 
shines as through a picture in porcelain, and one 
must be very unimpressible not to bestow the 
tribute of admiration which is claimed. These 
are the trivial details which may be remembered 
and described, but the general effect produced 
by the darkness, the silence, the vast spaces, the 
innumerable forms, the vaulted roofs, the pil- 
lars and galleries melting away in the gloom 
like the long-drawn aisles of a cathedral, may 
be recalled but not communicated. 

To see all these marvels requires much time, 
and I remained under ground long enough to 
have a new sense of the blessing of light. The 
first glimpse of returning day seen through the 
distant entrance brought with it an exhilarating 
sense of release, and the blue sky and cheerful 
sunshine were welcomed like the faces of long 
absent friends. 

48 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



A cave like that of Adelsberg — for all lime- 
stone caves are, doubtless, essentially similar in 
character — ought by all means to be seen if it 
comes in one's way, because it leaves impres- 
sions upon the mind unlike those derived from 
any other object. Nature stamps upon most of 
her operations a certain character of gravity and 
majesty. Order and symmetry attend upon her 
steps, and unity in variety is the law by which 
her movements are guided. But, beneath the 
surface of the earth, she seems a frolicsome 
child, or a sportive undine, who wreaths the un- 
manageable stone into weird and quaint forms, 
seemingly from no other motive than pure de- 
light in the exercise of overflowing power. 
Everything is playful, airy, and fantastic; there 
is no spirit of soberness; no reference to any 
ulterior end; nothing from which food, fuel, or 
raiment can be extracted. These chasms have 
been scooped out, and these pillars have been 
reared, in the spirit in which the bird sings, or 
the kitten plays with the falling leaves. From 
such scenes we may safely infer that the plan 
of the Creator comprehends something more 
than material utility, that beauty is its own vin- 
dictator and interpreter, that sawmills were not 
the ultimate cause of mountain streams, nor 
wine-bottles of cork-trees. 



VI — i 40 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 
THE MONASTERY OF MdLK* 

BY THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN 

We had determined upon dining at Molk the 
next day. The early morning was somewhat in- 
auspicious; but as the day advanced, it grew bright 
and cheerful. Some delightful glimpses of the 
Danube, to the left, from the more elevated parts 
of the road, accompanied us the whole way, till 
we caught the first view, beneath a bright blue sky, 
of the towering church and Monastery of Molk. 

Conceive what you please, and yet you shall not 
conceive the situation of this monastery. Less ele- 
vated above the road than Chremsminster, but of 
a more commanding style of architecture, and of 
considerably greater extent, it strikes you — as the 
Danube winds round and washes its rocky base — 
as one of the noblest edifices in the world. The 
wooded heights of the opposite side of the Dan- 
ube crown the view of this magnificent edifice, 
in a manner hardly to be surpassed. There is also 
a beautiful play of architectural lines and orna- 
ment in the front of the building, indicative of a 
pure Italian taste, and giving to the edifice, if not 
the air of towering grandeur, at least of dignified 
splendor. . . . 

As usual, I ordered a late dinner, intending to 
pay my respects to the Principal, and obtain per- 
mission to inspect the library. My late monastic 
visits had inspired me with confidence; and I 
marched up the steep sides of the hill, upon which 
the monastery is built, quite assured of the suc- 

*From "A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Pictur- 
esque Tour," published in 1821. 

50 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



cess of the visit I was about to pay. You must 
now accompany the bibliographer to the monas- 
tery. In five minutes from entering the outer 
gate of the first quadrangle — looking toward Vien- 
na, and which is the more ancient part of the 
building — I was in conversation with the Vice- 
Principal and Librarian, each of us speaking Latin. 
I delivered the letter which I had received at Salz- 
burg, and proceeded to the library. 

The view from this library is really enchanting, 
and put everything seen from a similar situation 
at Landshut and almost even at Chremsminster, 
out of my recollection. You look down upon the 
Danube, catching a fine sweep of the river, as it 
widens in its course toward Vienna. A man 
might sit, read, and gaze — in such a situation — 
till he fancied he had scarcely one earthly want! 
I now descended a small staircase, which brought 
me directly into the large library — forming the 
right wing of the building, looking up the Danube 
toward Lintz. I had scarcely uttered three notes 
of admiration, when the Abbe Strattman entered; 
and to my surprise and satisfaction, addrest me 
by name. We immediately commenced an ardent 
unintermitting conversation in the French lan- 
guage, which the Abbe speaks fluently and cor- 
rectly. 

I now took a leisurely survey of the library; 
which is, beyond all doubt, the finest room of its 
kind which I have seen upon the Continent — not 
for its size, but for its style of architecture, and 
the materials of which it is composed. I was told 
that it was "the Imperial Library in miniature,'*^ 
— but with this difference, let me here add, in 
favor of Molk — that it looks over a magnificently- 



51 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

wooded country, with the Danube rolling its rapid 
course at its base. The wainscot and shelves are 
walnut tree, of different shades, inlaid, or dove- 
tailed, surmounted by gilt ornaments. The pilas- 
ters have Corinthian capitals of gilt ; and the bolder 
or projecting parts of a gallery, which surrounds 
the room, are covered with the same metal. Every- 
thing is in harmony. This library may be about 
a hundred feet in length, by forty in width. It 
is sufficiently well furnished with books, of the 
ordinary useful class, and was once, I suspect, 
much richer in the bibliographical lore of the fif- 
teenth century. 

On reaching the last descending step, just be- 
fore entering the church, the Vice-Principal bade 
me look upward and view the corkscrew stair- 
case. I did so; and to view and admire was one 
and the same operation of the mind. It was the 
most perfect and extraordinary thing of the kind 
which I had ever seen — the consummation, as I 
was told, of that particular species of art. The 
church is the very perfection of ecclesiastical Ro- 
man architecture; that of Chremsminster, altho 
fine, being much inferior to it in loftiness and 
richness of decoration. The windows are fixt so as 
to throw their concentrated light beneath a dome, 
of no ordinary height, and of no ordinary ele- 
gance of decoration; but this dome is suffering 
from damp, and the paintings upon the ceiling 
will, unless repaired, be effaced in the course of 
a few years. 

The church is in the shape of a cross; and at 
the end of each of the transepts, is a rich altar, 
with statuary, in the style of art usual about a 
century ago. The pews — ^made of dark mahogany 

52 






OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



or walnut tree, much after the English fashion, 
but lower and more tasteful — are placed on each 
side of the nave, or entering; with ample space 
between them. They are exclusively appropriated 
to the tenants of the monastery. At the end of the 
nave, you look to the left, opposite — and observe, 
placed in a recess — a pulpit, which, from top to 
bottom, is completely covered with gold. And 
yet, there is nothing gaudy or tasteless, or glar- 
ingly obtrusive, in this extraordinary clerical ros- 
trum. The whole is in the most perfect taste; 
and perhaps more judgment was required to man- 
age such an ornament, or appendage — consistently 
with the splendid style of decoration exacted by 
the founder, for it was expressly the Prelate Diet- 
mayr's wish that it should be so adorned, — than 
may on first consideration be supposed. In fact, 
the whole church is in a blaze of gold; and I was 
told that the gilding alone cost upward of nine- 
ty thousand florins. Upon the whole, I under- 
stood that the church of this monastery was con- 
sidered as the most beautiful in Austria; and I 
can easily believe it to be so. 



THROUGH THE TYROL* 

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 

I left this most pleasing of the Italian cities 
(Venice), and took the road for the Tyrol. We 

*Froin "Letters of a Traveller." The Tyrol and the 
Dolomites being mainly Austrian territory, are here in- 
cluded under "Other Austrian Scenes." Resorts in 
the Swiss Alps, including Chamouni (which, however, 
is in France), will be found further on in this volume. 

53 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

passed through a level fertile country, formerly 
the territory of Venice, watered by the Piave, 
which ran blood in one of Bonaparte's battles. At 
evening we arrived at Ceneda, where our Italian 
poet Da Ponte* was born, situated just at the base 
of the Alps, the rocky peaks and irregular spires 
of which, beautifully green with the showery sea- 
son, rose in the background. Ceneda seems to have 
something of German cleanliness about it, and the 
floors of a very comfortable inn at which we stopt 
were of wood, the first we had seen in Italy, tho 
common throughout Tyrol and the rest of Ger- 
many. A troop of barelegged boys, just broke 
loose from school, whooping and swinging their 
books and slates in the air, passed under my win- 
dow. 

On leaving Ceneda, we entered a pass in the 
mountains, the gorge of which was occupied by 
the ancient town of Serravalle, resting on arcades, 
the architecture of which denoted that it was built 
during the Middle Ages. Near it I remarked an 
old castle, which formerly commanded the pass, 
one of the finest ruins of the kind I had ever seen. 
It had a considerable extent of battlemented wall 
in perfect preservation, and both that and its cir- 
cular tower were so luxuriantly loaded with ivy 
that they seemed almost to have been cut out of 
the living verdure. As we proceeded we became 
aware how worthy this region was to be the birth- 
place of a poet. 

A rapid stream, a branch of the Piave, tinged of 
a light and somewhat turbid blue by the soil of 

*An Italian poet (1749-1838), who, banished from 
Venice, settled in New York and became Professor of 
Italian at Columbia College. 

54 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



the mountains, came tumbling and roaring down 
the narrow valley; perpendicular precipices rose 
on each side ; and beyond, the gigantic brotherhood 
of the Alps, in two long files of steep pointed 
summits, divided by deep ravines, stretched away 
in the sunshine to the northeast. In the face of 
one of the precipices by the way-side, a marble slab 
is fixt, informing the traveler that the road was 
opened by the late Emperor of Germany in the 
year of 1S30. We followed this romantic valley 
for a considerable distance, passing several little 
blue lakes lying in their gTanite basins, one of 
which is called the "Lago Morto" or Dead Lake, 
from having no outlet for its waters. 

At length we began to ascend, by a winding road, 
the steep sides of the Alps — the prospect enlarg- 
ing as we went, the mountain summits rising to 
sight around us, one behind another, some of them 
white with snow, over which the wind blew with a 
wintry keenness — deep valleys opening below us, 
and gulfs yawning between rocks over which old 
bridges were thrown — and solemn fir forests cloth- 
ing the broad declivities. The farm-houses placed 
on these heights, instead of being of brick or stone, 
as in the plains and valleys below, were princi- 
pally built of wood ; the second story, which served 
for a barn, being encircled by a long gallery, and 
covered with a projecting roof of plank held down 
Avith large stones. 

We stopt at Venas, a wretched place with a 
wretched inn, the hostess of which showed us a chin 
swollen with the goitre, and ushered us into dirty 
comfortless rooms where we passed the night. When 
we awoke the rain was beating against the win- 
dows, and, on looking out, the forest and sides of 



55 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

the neighboring mountains, at a little height above 
lis, appeared hoary with snow. We set out in the 
rain, but had not proceeded far before we heard 
the sleet striking against the windows of the car- 
riage, and soon came to where the snow covered 
the ground to the depth of one or two inches. 

Continuing to ascend, we passed out of Italy 
and entered the Tyrol. The storm had ceased be- 
fore we went through the first Tyrolese village, 
and we could not help being struck with the change 
in the appearance of the inhabitants — ^the different 
costume, the less erect figures, the awkward gait, 
the lighter complexions, the neatly-kept inhabi- 
tations, and the absence of beggars. As we ad- 
vanced, the clouds began to roll off from the 
landscape, disclosing here and there, through open- 
ings in their broad skirts as they swept along, 
glimpses of the profound valleys below us, and 
of the white sides and summits of mountains in 
the mid-sky above. At length the sun appeared, 
and revealed a prospect of such wildness, grandeur, 
and splendor as I have never before seen. 

Lofty peaks of the most fantastic shapes, with 
deep clefts between, sharp needles of rock, and 
overhanging crags, infinite in multitude, shot up 
everywhere around us, glistening in the new-fallen 
snow, with thin wreaths of mist creeping along 
their sides. At intervals, swollen torrents, looking 
at a distance like long trains of foam, came thun- 
dering down the mountains, and crossing the road, 
plunged into the verdant valleys which winded be- 
neath. Beside the highway were fields of young 
grain, prest to the groimd with the snow; and 
in the meadows, ranunculuses of the size of roses, 
large yellow violets, and a thousand other Alpine 

56 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



flowers of the most brilliant hues, were peeping 
through their white covering. 

We stopt to breakfast at a place called Lan- 
dro, a solitary inn, in the midst of this grand 
scenery, with a little chapel beside it. The water 
from the dissolving snow was dropping merrily 
from the roof in a bright June sun. We needed 
not to be told that we were in Germany, for we 
saw it plainly enough in the nicely-washed floor 
of the apartment into which we were shown, in 
the neat cupboard with the old prayer-book ly- 
ing upon it, and in the general appearance of 
housewifery ; to say nothing of the evidence we had 
in the beer and tobacco-smoke of the travelers* 
room, and the guttural dialect and quiet tones of 
the guests. 

From Landro we descended gradually into the 
beautiful valleys of the Tyrol, leaving the snow 
behind, tho the white peaks of the mountains were 
continually in sight. At Bruneek, in an inn re- 
splendent with neatness — we had the first speci- 
men of a German bed. It is narrow and short, 
and made so high at the head, by a number of 
huge square bolsters and pillows, that you rather 
sit than lie. The principal covering is a bag of 
down, very properly denominated the upper bed, 
and between this and the feather-bed below, the 
traveler is expected to pass a night. An asth- 
matic patient on a cold winter night might per- 
haps find such a couch tolerably comfortable, if 
he could prevent the narrow covering from slip- 
ping off on one side or the other. 

The next day we were afforded an opportunity 
of observing more closely the inhabitants of this 
singular region, by a festival, or holiday of some 

57 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

sort, which brought them into the roads in great 
numbers, arrayed in their best dresses — the men in 
short jackets and small-clothes, with broad gay- 
colored suspenders over their waistcoats, and 
leathern belts ornamented with gold or silver leaf — 
the women in short petticoats composed of hori- 
zontal bands of different colors — and both sexes, 
for the most part, wearing broad-brimmed hats 
with hemispherical crowns, tho there was a sugar- 
loaf variety much affected by the men, adorned 
with a band of lace and sometimes a knot of flow- 
ers. They are a robust, healthy-looking race, tho 
they have an awkward stoop in the shoulders. But 
what struck me most forcibly was the devotional 
habits of the people. 

The Tyrolese might be cited as an illustration 
of the remark, that mountaineers are more habit- 
ually and profoundly religious than others. Per- 
sons of all sexes, young and old, whom we meet 
in the road, were repeating their prayers audibly. 
We passed a troop of old women, all in broad- 
brimmed hats and short gray petticoats, carrying 
long staves, one of whom held a bead-roll and gave 
out the prayers, to which the others made the re- 
sponses in chorus. They looked at us so solemnly 
from under their broad brims, and marched along 
with so grave and deliberate a pace, that I could 
hardly help fancying that the wicked Austrians 
had caught a dozen elders of the respectable Socie- 
ty of Friends, and put them in petticoats to pun- 
ish them for their heresy. We afterward saw per- 
sons going to the labors of the day, or returning, 
telling their rosaries and saying their prayers as 
they went, as if their devotions had been their 
favorite amusement. 

58 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



At regular intervals of about half a mile, we 
saw wooden crucifixes erected by the way-side, cov- 
ered from the weather with little sheds, bearing 
the image of the Savior, crowned with thorns and 
frightfully dashed with streaks and drops of red 
paint, to represent the blood that flowed from his 
wounds. The outer walls of the better kind of 
houses were ornamented with paintings in fresco, 
and the subjects of these were mostly sacred, such 
as the Virgin and Child, the Crucifixion, and the 
Ascension. The number of houses of worship was 
surprising; I do not mean spacious or stately 
churches such as we meet with in Italy, but most 
commonly little chapels dispersed so as best to ac- 
commodate the population. Of these the smallest 
neighborhood has one for the morning devotions 
of its inhabitants, and even the solitary inn has 
its little consecrated building with its miniature 
spire, for the convenience of pious wayfarers. 

At Sterzing, a little village beautifully situated 
at the base of the mountain called the Brenner, and 
containing, as I should judge, not more than two 
or three thousand inhabitants, we counted seven 
churches and chapels within the compass of a 
square mile. The observances of the Roman Cath- 
olic church are nowhere more rigidly complied with 
than in the Tyrol. When we stopt at Bruneck 
on Friday evening, I happened to drop a word 
about a little meat for dinner in a conversation 
with the spruce-looking landlady, who appeared so 
shocked that I gave up the point, on the promise 
of some excellent and remarkably well-flavored 
trout from the stream that flowed through the vil- 
lage — a promise that was literally fulfilled. . . . 

We descended the Brenner on the 28th of June 

59 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

in a snow-storm, the wind whirling the light flakes 
in the air as it does with us in winter. It changed 
to rain, however, as we approached the beautiful 
and picturesque valley watered by the river Inn, 
on the banks of which stands the fine old town of 
Innsbruck, the capital of the Tyrol. Here we 
visited the Church of the Holy Cross, in which is 
the bronze tomb of Maxmilian I. and twenty or 
thirty bronze statues ranged on each side of the 
nave, representing fierce warrior-chiefs, and gowned 
prelates, and stately damsels of the middle ages. 
These are all curious for the costume ; the warriors 
are cased in various kinds of ancient armor, and 
brandish various ancient weapons, and the robes of 
the females are flowing and by no means ungrace- 
ful. Almost every one of the statues has its hands 
and flngers in some constrained and awkward po- 
sition; as if the artist knew as little what to do 
with them as some awkward and bashful people 
know what to do with their own. Such a crowd of 
figures in that ancient garb, occupying the floor 
in the midst of the living worshipers of the pres- 
ent day, has an effect which at first is startling. 

From Innsbruck we climbed and crossed another 
mountain-ridge, scarcely less wild and majestic 
in its scenery than those we had left behind. On 
descending, we observed that the crucifixes had 
disappeared from the roads, and the broad-brimmed 
and sugar-loaf hats from the heads of the peas- 
antry; the men wore hats contracted in the middle 
of the crown like an hour-glass, and the women 
caps edged with a broad band of black fur, the 
frescoes on the outside of the houses became less 
frequent; in short it was apparent that we had 
entered a different region, even if the custom- 

60 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



house and police officers on the frontier had not 
signified to us that we were now in the kingdom of 
Bavaria. We passed through extensive forests of 
fir, here and there checkered with farms, and final- 
ly came to the broad elevated plain bathed by the 
Isar, in which Munich is situated. 



IN THE DOLOMITES* 

BY ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL KNOWLES 

The Dolomites are part of the Southern Tyrol. 
One portion is Italian, one portion is Austrian, and 
the rivalry of the two nations is keen. Under a 
warm summer sun, the quaint little villages seem 
half asleep, and the inhabitants appear to drift 
dreamily through life. Yet this is more apparent 
than real for, in many respects, the people here are 
busy in their own way. 

Crossing this region are many mountain ranges 
of limestone structure, which by water, weather 
and other causes have been worn away into the 
most fantastic fissures and clefts and the most 
picturesque peaks and pinnacles. A very great 
charm is their curious coloring, often of great 
beauty. The region of the Dolomites is a great con- 
trast to the rest of the Alps. Its characteristics do 
not make the same appeal to all. This is largely 
not only a matter of individual taste and temper- 
ament but also of one's mental or spiritual con- 
stitution, for the picture with its setting depends 
as much upon what it suggests as upon its con- 

♦From "Adventures in the Alps." Published by 
George W. Jacobs & Co. 

61 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

stituent parts. The Dolomites suggest Italy in 
the contour of the country, in the grace of the in- 
habitants and in the colors which make the scene 
one of rich magnificence. The great artist Titian 
was born here* and he probably learned much from 
his observation of his native place. 

Many of the mountain ranges are of the usual 
gray but such is the atmospheric condition that 
they seem to reflect the rosy rays of the setting 
sun or the pur])lish haze that often is found. The 
peaks are not great peaks in the sense that we 
speak of Mont Blanc, the Jungfrau, the Matter- 
horn or Monte Rosa. They impress one more as 
pictures with wonderful lights and strange group- 
ing. . . . _ 

If the reader intends some day to visit the Dolo- 
mites he is advised to enter from the north. Salz- 
burg and the Salzkammergut, so much frequented 
by the Emperor Francis Joseph and the Austrian 
nobility, make a good introduction. Then by way 
of Innsbruck, one of the gems of the Tyrol, Tob- 
lach is reached, v/here the driving tour may prop- 
erly begin. Toblach is a lovely place, if one stops 
long enough to see it and enjoy it ! It is not very 
far to Cortina, the center of this beautiful region. 
The way there is very lovely. And driving is in 
keeping with the spirit of the place. It almost 
seems profane to rush through in a motor, as some 
do, for not only is it impossible to appreciate the 
scenery, but also it is out of harmony v/ith the 
peace and quiet which reign. 

For a while there is traversed a little valley 
quite embowered in green, but presently this 

*In the village of Cadore — hence the name, Titian 
da Cadore. 

62 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



abiTiptly leads into a wild gorge, with jagged peaks 
on every side. Soon Monte Cristallo appears. 
This is the most striking of all the Dolomite peaks. 
At a tiny village, called Schluderbach, the road 
forks, that to the right going directly to Cortina, 
the other to the left proceeding by way of Lake 
Misurina. Lake Misurina is a pretty stretch of 
water, pale green in color and at an altitude of 
about 5,800 feet. On its shores are two very at- 
tractive and well-kept hotels, with charming walks, 
from which one looks on a splendid panorama, 
picturesque in extreme. 

From Misurina, the road again ascends, becom- 
ing very narrow and very steep. The top is called 
"Passo Tre Croci," the Pass of the Three Crosses. 
The outlook is very lovely, with the three serrated 
peaks Monte Cristallo, Monte Piano and Monte 
Tofana, standing as guardian sentinels over the 
little valley of Ampezzo far below, where lies 
Cortina sleeping in the sun, while in the distance 
shine the snow fields of the Marmolata, Just as 
steeply as it climbed up one side, the road descends 
on the other side, to Cortina. This place is the 
capital of the valley and altogether lovely; beauti- 
ful in its woods and meadows, beautiful in its 
mountain views, beautiful in the town itself and 
beautiful in Its people. 

Cortina has much to boast of — an ancient church 
and some old houses; an industrial school in which 
the villagers are taught the most delicate and artis- 
tic (and withal comparatively cheap) filigree mo- 
saic work; and a community of people, handsome 
in face and figure and possessing a carriage and 
refinement superior to any seen elsewhere among 
the mountaineers or peasantry. In the neighbor- 

63 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

hood of Cortina are many excursions and also ex- 
tended rock climbs, but those who go there in the 
summer will be more apt to linger lazily amid the 
cool shade of the trees than to brave the hot Ital- 
ian sun on the peaks ! 

After a few days' stay at Cortina, the drive is 
continued. There are many ways out. You can 
return by a new route to Toblach and the Upper 
Tyrol. Or you can go south to Belluno and thence 
to northern Italy. Or a third way and perhaps 
the finest tour of all is that over a series of mag- 
nificent mountain passes to Botzen. This last 
crosses the Ampezzo Valley and then begins the 
ascent of Monte Tof ana, which here is beautifully 
wooded. Steepness seems characteristic of this 
region ! 

It is hard to imagine a carriage climbing a road 
any steeper than that one on the slopes of Monte 
Tof ana ! If narrow and steep is the way and hard 
and toilsome the climb this Monte Tofana route 
most certainly repays one when it reaches the Fal- 
zarego Pass (6,945 feet high) which is certainly 
an earthly Paradise ! One can not aptly describe 
a view like that ! It is all a picture ; as if every 
part was purposely what it is, here rocky, here 
green, here snowy, with summits, valleys, ravines 
and villages and even a partly ruined castle to 
form a whole such as an artist or poet would revel 
in. 

After a pause on the summit of the Pass, again 
comes a steep descent, as the drive is resumed, 
which continues to Andraz, where dejeuner is taken. 
One can not live on air or scenery and even the 
most indefatigable sightseer sometimes turns with 
longing to luncheon ! Then one returns with added 

64 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



zest to the feast of eye and soul. And at Andraz, 
as one lingers awhile after luncheon on that high 
mountain terrace, a lovelier scene than that spread 
before the eye could scarcely be imagined. In- 
deed it is a "dream-scene," and as seen in the 
sleepy stillness of the early afternoon, when the 
shadows are already playing with the lights and 
gradually overcoming them, it seems like fancy, 
not reality. 

Again the carriage is taken and soon the road 
is climbing once more, this time giving fine views 
of the Sella group of peaks and going through a 
series of picturesque valleys. At Arabba (5,255 
feet), a pretty little village, the final ascent to Por- 
doi begins. The scenery undergoes a change. It 
becomes more wild and barren and the character- 
istics of the high Alps appear. The hour begins 
to be late and it becomes cold, but the light still 
lingers as the carriage reaches the summit of the 
pass and stops at the new Hotel Pordoi (7,020 feet 
high) facing the weird, fantastic shapes of the 
Rosengarten and the Langkofel, on the one side 
and on the other the snowy Marmolata and the 
summits about Cortina. . . . 

The following morning the start is made for 
Botzen. The way steadily descends for hours, 
past the pretty hamlets of Canazei, Campitello and 
Vigo di Fassa, surrounded by an imposing array 
of Dolomite peaks. After crossing the Karer Pass 
the scenery becomes much more soft and pastoral. 
Below the pass, most beautifully situated is a 
little green lake called the Karer-See. . . . 

At Botzen the drive through the Dolomites ends. 
At best it gives but a glimpse of this delightful 
region! That glimpse leaves a lasting impression^ 



VI— 5 65 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

not of snowy summits and glistening glaciers, but 
of wonderful rocks and more wonderful coloring 
and of great peaks of fantastic form, set in a 
garden spot of green. And Botzen is a fitting ter- 
minus. It dates far back to the Middle Ages. It 
boasts of churches, houses and public buildings of 
artistic merit and architectural beauty and over 
■all there lingers an atmosphere of rest and refine- 
ment, refreshing to see, where there might have 
been the noisy bustle and hopeless vulgarity of so 
many places similarly situated. 

There is plenty going on, nevertheless, for Bot- 
zen is quite a little commercial center in its own 
way, but with it there is this charm of dignified 
repose. One wanders through the town under the 
cool colonnades, strolls into some ancient cloisters, 
kneels for a moment in some finely carved church 
and then goes out again to the open, to see far 
above the little city that beautiful background of 
the Dolomite peaks, dominated by the wonderfully 
impressive and fantastic Rosengarten range, gol- 
den red in the western sun. With such a view ex- 
perience may well lapse into memory, to linger 
on so long as the mind possesses the power of 
recalling the past. 



6Q 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



CORTINA* 

BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS 

Situate on the left bank of the Boita, which here 
runs nearly due north and south, with the Tre 
Croci pass opening away behind the town to the 
east, and the Tre Sassi Pass widening before it 
to the west, Cortina lies in a comparatively open 
space between four great mountains, and is 
therefore less liable to danger from bergfalls than 
any other village not only in the Val d'Ampezo 
but in the whole adjacent district. For the same 
reason, it is cooler in summer than either Caprile, 
Agordo, Primiero, or Predazzo; all of which, the 
more central as stopping places, and in many re- 
spects more convenient, are yet somewhat too close- 
ly hemmed in by surrounding heights. The climate 
of Cortina is temperate throughout the year. Ball 
gives the village an elevation of 4,048 feet above 
the level of the sea; and one of the parish priests 
— an intelligent old man who has devoted many 
years of his life to collecting the flora of the Am- 
pezzo — assured me that he had never known the 
thermometer drop so low as fifteen degreest of 
frost in even the coldest winters. The soil, for 
all this, has a bleak and barren look; the maize 
(here called "grano Turco") is cultivated, but 
does not flourish; and the vine is unknown. But 
then agric'ilture is not a specialty of the Am- 
pezzo Thai, and the wealth of Cortina is derived 

♦From "Untrodden Peaks and Unfrequented Valleys: 
A Midsummer Ramble in the Dolomites." Published 
by E. P. Dutton & Co. 

tReaumur. — Author's note. 

67 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

essentially from its pasture-lands and forests. 

These last, in consequence of the increased and 
increasing value of timber, have been lavishly cut 
down of late years by the Commune — too proba- 
bly at the expense of the future interests of Cor- 
tina. Por the present, however, every inn, home- 
stead, and public building bespeaks prosperity. 
The inhabitants are well-fed and well-drest. 
Their fairs and festivals are the most consider- 
able in all the South Eastern Tyrol; their prin- 
cipal church is the largest this side of St. Uirich; 
and their new Gothic Campanile, 250 feet high, 
might suitably adorn the piazza of such cities as 
Bergamo or Belluno. 

The village contains about 700 souls, but the 
population of the Commune numbers over 2,500. 
Of these, the greater part, old and young, rich 
and poor, men, women, and children, are engaged 
in the timber trade. Some cut the wood; some 
transport it. The wealthy convey it on trucks 
drawn by fine horses which, however, are cruelly 
overworked. The poor harness themselves six or 
eight in a team, men, women, and boys together, 
and so, under the burning summer sun, drag loads 
that look as if they might be too much for an ele- 
phant. . . . 

To ascend the Campanile and get the near view 
over the village, was obviously one of the first 
duties of a visitor; so, finding the door open and 
the old bellringer inside, we mounted laboriously 
to the top — nearly a hundred feet higher than the 
Leaning Tower of Pisa. Standing here upon the 
©uter gallery above the level of the great bells, 
we had the village and valley at our feet. The 
panorama, tho it included little which we had not 

68 



OTHER AUSTRIAN SCENES 



seen already, was fine all around, and served to 
impress the mainland marks upon our memory. The 
Ampezzo Thai opened away to north and south, 
and the twin passes of the Tre Croci and Tre Sassi 
intersected it to east and west. When we had fixt 
in our minds the fact that Landro and Bruneck 
lay out to the north, and Perarolo to the south; 
that Auronzo was to be found somewhere on the 
other side of the Tre Croci; and that to arrive at 
Caprile it was necessary to go over the Tre Sassi, 
we had gained something in the way of definite 
topogi'ahy. The Marmolata and Civet t a, as we 
knew by our maps, were on the side of Caprile; 
and the Marmarole on the side of Auronzo. The 
Pelmo, left behind yesterday, was peeping even 
now above the ridge of the Rochetta ; and a group 
of fantastic rocks, so like the towers and bastions 
of a ruined castle that we took them at first sight 
for the remains of some medieval stronghold, 
marked the summit of the Tre Sassi to the west. 

"But what mountain is that far away to the 
south?" we asked, pointing in the direction of 
Perarolo. 

"Which mountain, Signora?" 

"That one yonder, like a cathedral front with, 
two towers." 

The old bellringer shaded his eyes with one 
trembling hand, and peered down the valley. 

"Eh," he said, "it is some mountain on the 
Italian side." 

"But what is it called?" 

"Eh," he repeated, with a puzzled look, "who 
knows? I don't know that I ever noticed it be- 
fore." 

Now it was a ver^^ singular mountain — one of 



69 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

the most singular and the most striking that we 
saw throughout the tour. It was exactly like the 
front of Notre Dame, with one slender aiguille, 
like a flagstaff, shooting up from the top of one 
of its battlemented towers. It was conspicuous 
from most points on the left bank of the Boita; 
but the best view, as I soon after discovered, 
was from the rising ground behind Cortina, go- 
ing up through the fields in the direction of the 
Begontina torrent. 

To this spot we returned again and again, fas- 
cinated as much, perhaps, by the mystery in which 
it was enveloped, as by the majestic outline of 
this unknown mountain, to which, for want of a 
better, we gave the name of Notre Dame. For the 
old bellringer was not alone in his ignorance. 
Ask whom we would, we invariably received the 
same vague reply — it was a mountain "on the 
Italian side." They knew no more; and some, 
like our friend of the Campanile, had evidently 
"not noticed it before." 



70 



IX 

ALPINE RESORTS 

THE CALL OF THE MOUNTAINS* 

BY FREDERIC HARRISON 

Once more — perhaps for the last time — I listen 
to the unnumbered tinkling of the cow-bells on the 
slopes — ''the sweet bells of the sauntering- herd" — 
to the music of the cicadas in the sunshine, and 
the shouts of the neat herdlads, echoing back from 
Alp to Alp. I hear the bubbling of the mountain 
rill, I watch the emerald moss of the pastures 
gleaming in the light, and now and then the soft 
white mist creeping along the glen, as our poet 
says, "puts forth an arm and creeps from pine to 
pine." And see, the wild flowers, even in this 
waning season of the year, the delicate lilac of 
the dear autumn crocus, which seems to start up 
elf-like out of the lush grass, the coral beads of the 
rowan, and the beech-trees just begun to wear 
their autumn jewelry of old gold. 

As I stroll about these hills, more leisurely, more 
thoughtfully than I used to do of old in my hot 
mountaineering days, I have tried to think out 
what it is that makes the Alpine landscape so mar- 
velous a tonic to the spirit — what is the special 
charm of it to those who have once felt all its 
inexhaustible magic. Other lands have rare beau- 

*From "My Alpine Jubilee." Published in 1908. 

71 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ties, wonders of their own, sights to live in the 
memory for ever. 

In France, in Italy, in Spain, in Greece and in 
Turkey, I hold in memory many a superb land- 
scape. From boyhood upward I thirsted for all 
kinds of Nature's gifts, whether by sea, or by 
river, lake, mountain, or forest. For sixty years at 
least I have roved about the white cliffs, the moors, 
the riversides, lakes, and pastures of our own 
islands from Penzance to Cape Wrath, from Beachy 
Head to the Shetlands. I love them all. But 
they can not touch me, as do the Alps, with the 
sense at once of inexhaustible loveliness and of a 
sort of conscious sympathy with every fiber of 
man's heart and brain. Why then is this so ? 

I find it in the immense range of the moods in 
which Nature is seen in the Alps, as least by those 
who have fully absorbed all the forms, sights, 
sounds, wonders, and adventures they offer. An 
hour's walk will show them all in profound con- 
trast and yet in exquisite harmony. The Alps 
form a book of Nature as wide and as mysterious 
as Life. 

Earth has no scenes of placid fruitfulness more 
l)almy than the banks of one of the larger lakes, 
crowded vdth vineyards, orchards, groves and pas- 
tures, down to the edge of its watery mirror, where- 
in, beside a semi-tropical vegetation, we see the 
image of some medieval castle, of some historic 
tower, and thence the eye strays up to sunless 
gorges, swept with avalanches, and steaming with 
feathery cascades; and higher yet one sees against 
the skyline ranges of terrific crags, girt with gla- 
ciers, and so often wreathed in storm clouds. 

All that Earth has of most sweet, softest, easi- 

72 



ALPINE RESORTS 



est, most suggestive of langor and love, of fer- 
tility and abundance — here is seen in one vision 
beside all that Nature has most hard, most cruel, 
most unkind to Man — where life is one long weary 
battle with a frost bitten soil, and every peasant's 
hut has been built up stone by stone, and log by 
log, with sweat and groans, and wrecked hopes. In 
a few hours one may pass from an enchanted gar- 
den, where every sense is satiated, and every 
flower and leaf and gleam of light is intoxication, 
up into a wilderness of difficult crags and yawning 
glaciers, which men can reach only by hard-earned 
skill, tough muscle and iron nerves. . . . 

The Alps are international, European, Humani- 
tarian. Four written languages are spoken in 
their valleys, and ten times as many local dialects. 
The Alps are not especially Swiss — I used to think 
they were English — they belong equally to four 
nations of Europe ; they are the sanatorium and the 
diversorium of the civilized world, the refuge, the 
asylum, the second home of men and women fa- 
mous throughout the centuries for arts, literature, 
thought, religion. The poet, the philosopher, the 
dreamer, the patriot, the exile, the bereaved, the 
reformer, the prophet, the hero — have all found in 
the Alps a haven of rest, a new home where the 
wicked cease from troubling, where men need 
neither fear nor suffer. The happy and the thought- 
less, the thinker and the sick — are alike at home 
here. The patriot exile inscribed on his house on 
Lake Iceman — "Every land is fatherland to the 
brave man." What he might have written is — 
"This land is fatherland to all men." To young 
and old, to strong and weak, to wise and foolish, 
alike, the Alps are a second fatherland. 



73 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 
INTERLAKEN AND THE JUNGFRAU* 

BY ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL KNOWLES 

It is hard to find a prettier spot than Interlaken. 
Situated between two lovely lakes, surrounded by 
wooded heights, and lying but a few miles from 
the snowy Jungfrau, it is like a jewel richly set. 
From Lucerne over the Brunig, from Meiringen 
over the Grimsel come the travelers, passing on. 
their way the Lake of Brienz, with the waterfall 
of the Giessbach, on its southern side. 

From Berne over Lake Thun, from the Rhone 
Valley over the Gemmi or through the Simmenthal 
come the tourists, seeing as they come the white 
peaks of the Oberland. And Interlaken welcomes 
them all, and rests them for their closer relations 
with the High Alps by trips to the region of the 
Lauterbrunnen, Grindelwald, and Mlirren, and the 
great mountain plateaux looking down upon them. 
Interlaken is not a climbing center. Conse- 
quently mountaineering is little in evidence, con- 
versation about ascents is seldom heard, and ice- 
axes, ropes, and nailed boots are seen more often 
in shop windows than in the streets. 

Interlaken is not like some other Swiss towns. 
Berne, Geneva, Zurich, and Lucerne are places 
possessing notable churches, museums, and monu- 
ments of the past, having a social life of their 
own and being distinguished in some special way, 
as centers of culture and education. Interlaken, 
however, has little life apart from that made by 
the throngs of visitors who gather here in the 

*Froni "Adventures in the Alps." Published by 
George W. Jacobs Company, Philadelphia. 

74 



ALPINE RESORTS 



sunmier. There is little to see except a group of 
old monastic buildings, and in Unterseen and else- 
where some fine old carved chalets, but none of 
these receives much attention. 

The attraction, on what one may call the natural 
side, centers in the softly beautiful panorama of 
woods and meadows, green hills and snow peaks 
which opens to the eye, and on the social side in 
the busy little promenade and park of the Hohe- 
weg, bordered with hotels, shops, and gardens. 
Here is ever a changing picture in the height of 
the season, in fact, quite kaleidoscopic as railways 
and steamboats at each end of Interlaken send their 
passengers to mingle in the passing crowd. All 
"sorts and conditions of men'' are here, and repre- 
sentatives of antagonistic nations meet in friendly 
intercourse. 

On the hotel terraces and in the little cafes 
and tea rooms, one hears a babel of voices, every 
nation of Europe seeming to speak in its own native 
tongue. Life goes easily. There is a gaiety in 
the little town that is infectious. It is a sort of 
busy idleness. "To trip or not to trip" is the 
question. If the affirmative, then a rush to the 
mountain trains and comfortable cabs. If the neg- 
ative, then a turning to the shops, where pretty 
things worthy of Paris or London are seen side 
by side with Swiss carvings and Swiss embroidery 
and many little superficial souvenirs. As the con- 
tents of the shops are exhibited in the windows, 
so the character of the visitors is shown by the 
crowds, and the life of the place is seen in the 
constant ebb and flow of the people on the Hohe- 
weg. 

Interlaken is undoubtedly a tourist center, for 



75 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

few trips to Switzerland overlook or omit this 
delightful spot. Thousands come here, who never 
go any nearer the High Alps. They are quite 
content to sit on the benches of the Hoheweg, lis- 
tening to the music and enjoying the view. There 
is a casino, most artistically planned, with plash- 
ing fountains, shady paths, and wonderful flower- 
beds. Here many persons pass the day, and, con- 
trary to what one might expect, it is quiet and 
restful, lounging in that parklike garden. 

For, notwithstanding "the madding crowd," In- 
terlaken is a little gem of a mountain town, with 
an undertone of repose and nobility, as if the 
spirit of the Alps asserted herself, reigning, as 
one might say, for all not ruling. And always 
smiling at the people, as it were, is the majestic 
Jungfrau, ever seeming close at hand, aitho 
eight miles away. . . . 

The pleasures of this little Swiss resort are ex- 
haustless. The wooded hills of the Rugen give 
innumerable walks amid beautiful forests, with all 
their wealth of pine and larch and hardwood, their 
moss-clad rocks and waving ferns. In that pleasant 
shade hours may be passed close to nature. The 
lakes not only offer delightful water trips, but also 
charming excursions along the wooded shores, some- 
times high above the lakes, giving varying views 
of great beauty. While, ever as with beckoning 
fingers, the great peaks, snow-capped or roek- 
summitted, call one across the verdant meadows 
into the higher valleys of Kienthal, Lauterbrunnen, 
Grindelwald, and Kandersteg, to the terraced 
heights above or up amid the great wild passes. 

Interlaken is, above all, a garden of green. Per- 
haps the unusual amount of rain which falls to the 

76 



ALPINE RESORTS 



lot of this valley accounts for its verdure. In any 
e\ ent, park, woods, meadow, garden, even the moun- 
tain sides are green, a vari-colored green, and 
interspersed with an abundance of flowers. No- 
where is the eye olfended by anything inartistic 
or unpicturesque, but, on the contrary, the charm 
is so comprehensive that the visitor looks from 
place to place, from this bit to that bit, and ever 
sees new beauty. 

To complete all, to accentuate in the minds of 
some this impression of green, is the majestic 
Jungfrau. Other views may be grander and more 
magnificent, but no view of the Jungfrau can com- 
pare in loveliness to that from Interlaken. A great 
white glistening mass, far up above green meadows, 
green forests, and green mountains, rises this peak, 
a shining summit of white. Fitly named the Vir- 
gin, the Jungfrau gives her benediction to Inter- 
laken, serenely smiling at the valley and at the 
town lying so quietly at her feet — the Jungfrau 
crowned with snow, Interlaken drest in green! 

In the golden glory of the sun, in the silver 
sliijnmer of the moon, the Jungfrau beckons, the 
Jungfrau calls! "Come," she seems to say, "come 
nearer! Come up to the heights! Come close to 
the ruuning waters ! Come." And that invitation 
falls on no unwilling ears, but in to the Grindel- 
wald and to the Lauterbrunnen and up to Miirren 
go those who love the majestic Jungfrau ! What 
a wonderful trip this is! It may shatter some 
ideals in being taken to such a height in a rail- 
way train, but even against one's convictions as 
to the proper way of seeing a mountain, when all 
has been said, the fact remains that this trip is 
wonderful beyond words. There is a strangeness 



77 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

in taking a train which leaves a garden of green 
in the early morning and in a few hours later, 
after valley and pass and tunnel, puts one out 
on snow fields over 11,000 feet above the sea, 
where are seen vast stretches of white, almost level 
with the summit of the Jungfrau close at hand, 
and below, stretching for miles, on the one side 
the great Aletsch Glacier, and on the other side 
the green valleys enclosed by the everlasting hills ! 

The rouie is by way of Lauterbrunnen, Wengen, 
and the Scheidegg, and after skirting the Eiger 
Glacier going by tunnel into the very bowels of the 
mountain. At Eigerwand, Rotstock, and Eismeer 
are stations, great galleries blasted out of the rock, 
with corridors leading to openings from which one 
has marvelous views.* Eismeer looks directly upon 
the huge sea of snow and ice, with immense masses 
of dazzling white so close as to make one reel with 
awe and astonishment. In fact, this view is really 
oppressive in its wild magnificence, so near and so 
grand is it. The Jungfraujoch is different. 
One is out in the open, so to speak ; one walks over 
that vast plateau of snow over 11,000 feet high in 
the glorious sunlight, above most of the nearer 
peaks and looking down at a beautiful panorama. 
On one side of this plateau is the Jungfrau, on the 
other the Moneh, either of which can be climbed 
from here in about three hours. 

Yet the eye lingers longer in the direction of the 
Aletsch Glacier than anywhere else, this frozen 
river running for miles and turning to the right 
at the little green basin of water full of pieces of 
floating ice, called the Marjelen Lake, or See, at 

*Since the above was written, the railway has been 
extended up the Jungfrau itself. 

78 



ALPINE RESORTS 



the foot of the Eggishorn, which is unique and 
lovely. Long ago it was formed in this corner 
of the glacier, and its blue waters are really melted 
snow, over which float icebergs shining in the sun. 
In such a position the lake underlaps the glacier 
for quite a distance, forming a low vaulted cavern 
in the ice. Every now and then one of these little 
bergs overbalances itself and turns over, the upper 
side then being a deep blue, and the lower side, 
which was formerly above, being a pure white. 

Again turning toward the green valleys, one 
with the eye of an artist, who can perceive and 
differentiate varying shades of color, can not but 
admit that the Bernese Oberland is "par excel- 
lence" first. Even south of the Alps the verdure 
does not excel or even equal that to be seen here. 
There is something incomparably lovely about the 
Oberland valleys. It is indescribable, indefinable, 
for when one has exhausted the most extravagant 
terms of description, he feels that he has failed to 
picture the scene as he desired. Yet if one word 
should be chosen to convey the impression which 
the Oberland makes, the word would be "color." 
[For whether one regards the snow summits as set- 
ting off the valleys, or the green meadows as setting 
off the peaks, it matters not, for the secret of 
their beauty lies in the richness and variety of 
the exquisite coloring wherein many wonderful 
shades of green predominate. 



79 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 
THE ALTDORF OF WILLIAM TELL* 

BY W. D. M^CRACKAN 

Let it be said at once that, altho the name of 
Altdorf is indissolubly linked with that of William 
Tell, the place arouses an interest which does not 
at all depend upon its associations with the famous 
archer. From the very first it gives one the im- 
pression of possessing a distinct personality, of 
ringing, as it were, to a note never heard before, 
and thus challenging attention to its peculiarities. 

As you approach Altdorf from Fliielen, on the 
Lake of Lucerne, by the long white road, the first 
houses you reach are large structures of the conven- 
tional village type, plain, but evidently the homes 
of well-to-do people, and some even adorned with 
family coats-of-arms. In fact, this street is dedi- 
cated to the aristocracy, and formerly went by the 
name of the Herrengasse, the "Lane of the Lords." 
Beyond these fashionable houses is an open square, 
upon which faces a cosy inn — named, of course, 
after William Tell; and off on one side the large 
parish church, built in cheap baroco style, but 
containing a few objects of interest. . . . 

There is a good deal of sight-seeing to be done 
in Altdorf, for so small a place. In the town hall 
are shown the tattered flags carried by the warriors 
of Uri in the early battles of the Confederation, 
the mace and sword of state which are borne by 
the beadles to the Landsgemeinde. In a somewhat 
inaccessible corner, a few houses off, the beginnings 

*From "Teutonic Switzerland." By special arrange- 
ment with, and by permission of, the publishers, L. C. 
Page & Co. Copyright, 1894. 

80 



ALPINE RESORTS 



of a museum have been made. Here is another 
portrait of interest — that of the giant Piintener, a 
mercenary whose valor made him the terror of the 
enemy in the battle of Marignano, in 1515 ; so that 
when he was finally killed, they avenged them- 
selves, according to a writing beneath the picture, 
by using his fat to smear their weapons, and by 
feeding their horses with oats from his carcass. 
Just outside the village stands the arsenal, whence, 
they say, old armor was taken and turned into 
shovels, when the St. Gothard Railroad was build- 
ing, so poor and ignorant were the people. 

If you are of the sterner sex, you can also pene- 
trate into the Capuchin Monastery, and enter the 
gardens, where the terraces that rise behind the 
buildings are almost Italian in appearance, fes- 
tooned with vines and radiant with roses. Not that 
the fame of this institution rests on such trivial 
matters, however. The brothers boast of two 
things: theirs is the oldest branch of the order in 
Switzerland, dating from 1581, and they carry on 
in it the somewhat unappetizing industry of culti- 
vating snails for the gourmands of foreign coun- 
tries. Above the Capuchins is the famous Bann- 
wald, mentioned by Schiller — a tract of forest on 
the mountain-slope, in which no one is allowed to 
fell trees, because it protects the village from 
avalanches and rolling stones. 

Nothing could be fairer than the outskirts of 
Altdorf on a May morning. The valley of the 
Reuss lies bathed from end to end in a flood of 
golden light, shining through an atmosphere of 
crystal purity. Daisies, cowslips, and buttercups, 
the flowers of rural well-being, show through the 
rising grass of the fields; along the hedges and 

VI— 6 81 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

crumbling walls of the lanes peep timid prim- 
roses and violets, and in wilder spots the Alpine 
gentian, intensely blue. High up, upon the moun- 
tains, glows the indescribable velvet of the slopes, 
while, higher still, ragged and vanishing patches of 
snow proclaim the rapid approach of summer. 

After all, the best part of Altdorf, to make an 
Irish bull, lies outside of the village. No adequate 
idea of this strange little community can be given 
without referring to the Almend, or village com- 
mon. Indeed, as time goes on, one learns to regard 
this Almend as the complete expression and final 
summing up of all that is best in Altdorf, the recon- 
ciliation of all its inconsistencies. 

How fine that great pasture beside the River 
Reus, with its short, juicy, Alpine grass, in sight 
of the snow-capped Bristenstock, at one end of 
the valley, and of the waters of Lake Lucerne at 
the other! In May, the full-grown cattle have al- 
ready departed for the higher summer pastures, 
leaving only the feeble young behind, who are to 
follow as soon as they have grown strong enough 
to bear the fatigues of the journey. At this time, 
therefore, the Almend becomes a sort of vision of 
youth — of calves, lambs, and foals, guarded by 
little boys, all gamboling in the exuberance of 
early life. 



82 



ALPINE RESORTS 



LUCERNE* 

BY VICTOR TISSOT 

A height crowned with embattled ramparts that 
bristle with loop-holed turrets; church towers min- 
gling their graceful spires and peaceful crosses 
with those warlike edifices; dazzling white villas, 
planted like tents under curtains of verdure; tall 
houses with old red skylights on the roofs — this is 
our first glimpse of the Catholic and warlike city 
of Lucerne. We seem to be approaching some 
town of old feudal times that has been left solitary 
and forgotten on the mountain side, outside of the 
current of modern life. 

But when we pass through the station we find 
ourselves suddenly transported to the side of the 
lake, where whole flotillas of large and small boats 
lie moored on the blue waters of a large harbor. 
And along the banks of this wonderful lake is a 
whole town of hotels, gay with many colored flags, 
their terraces and balconies rising tier above tier, 
like the galleries of a grand theater whose scenery 
is the mighty Alps. . . . 

In summer Lucerne is the Hyde Park of Switzer- 
land. Its quays are thronged by people of every 
nation. There you meet pale women from the 
lands of snow, and dark women from the lands of 
the sun; tall, six-foot English women, and lively, 
alert, trim Parisian women, with the light and 
graceful carriage of a bird on the bough. At cer- 
tain hours this promenade on the quays is like a 

*From "Unknown Switzerland." Published by James 
Pott & Co. 

83 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

cliarity fair or a rustic ball — bright colors and 
airy draperies everywhere. 

Nowhere can the least calm and repose be found 
but in the old town. There the gabled houses, 
"with wooden galleries hanging over the waters of 
the Reuss, make a charming ancient picture, like 
a bit of Venice set down amid the verdant land- 
scape of the valley. 

I also discovered on the heights beyond the ram- 
parts a pretty and peaceful convent of Capuchins, 
the way to which winds among wild plants, starry 
with flowers. It is delicious to go right away, far 
from the town swarming and running over with 
Londoners, Germans, and Americans, and to find 
yourself among fragrant hedges, peopled by war- 
blers whom it has not yet occurred to the hotel- 
keepers to teach to sing in English. This sweet 
path leads without fatigue to the convent of the 
good fathers. 

In a garden flooded with sunshine and balmy 
with the fragrance of mignonette and vervain, 
where broad sunflowers erect their black discs 
fringed with gold, two brothers with fan-shaped 
beards, their brass-mounted spectacles astride on 
their flat noses, and arrayed in green gardening 
aprons, are plying enormous watering-cans; while, 
in the green and cool half -twilight under the shad- 
owy trees, big, rubicund brothers walk up and 
down, reading their red-edged breviaries in black 
leather bindings. 

Happy monks! Not a fraction of a pessimist 
among them! How well they understand life! 
A beautiful convent, beautiful nature, good wine 
and good cheer, neither disturbance nor care; nei- 
ther wife nor children; and when they leave the 

84 



ALPINE RESORTS 



world, heaven specially created for them, seraphim 
waiting for them with harps of gold, and angels 
with urns of rose-water to wash their feet ! 

Lucerne began as a nest of monks, hidden in an 
orchard like a nest of sparrows. The first house 
of the town was a monastery, erected by the side 
of the lake. The nest grew, became a village, then 
a town, then a city. The monks of Murbach, to 
whom the monastery of St. Leger belonged, had 
got into debt; this sometimes does happen even 
to monks. They sold to King Rudolf all the prop- 
erty they possest at Lucerne and in IJnterwalden; 
and thus the town passed into the hands of the 
Hapsburgs. 

When the first Cantons, after expelling the 
Austrian bailiffs, had declared their independence, 
Lucerne was still one of Austria's advanced posts. 
But its people were daily brought into contact 
with the shepherds of the Forest Cantons, who 
came into the town to supply themselves with pro- 
visions; and they were not long in beginning to 
ask themselves if there was any reason why they 
should not be, as well as their neighbors, abso- 
lutely free. The position of the partizans of 
Austria soon became so precarious that they found 
it safe to leave the town. . . . 

The opening of the St. Gothard Railway has 
given a new impulse to this cosmopolitan city, 
which has a great future before it. Already it has 
supplanted Interlaken in the estimation of the 
furbelowed, fashionable world — the women who 
come to Switzerland not to see but to be seen. 
Lucerne is now the chief summer station of the 
twenty-two Cantons. And yet it does not possess 
many objects of interest. There is the old bridge 



85 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

on the Reuss, with its ancient paintings; the 
Church of St. Leger, with its lateral altars and its 
Campo Santo, reminding ns of Italian cemeteries j 
the museum at the Town Hall, with its fine collec- 
tion of stained glass; the blood-stained standards 
from the Burgundian wars, and the liag in which 
noble old Gundolfingen, after charging his fellow- 
citizens never to elect their magistrates for more 
than a year, wrapt himself as in a shroud of glory 
to die in the fight; finally, there is the Lion of 
Lucerne; and that is all. 

The most wonderful thing of all is that you are 
allowed to see this lion for nothing; for close 
beside it you are charged a franc for permission 
to cast an indifferent glance on some uninteresting 
excavations, which date, it is said, from the glacial 
period. We do not care if they do. . . . 

The great quay of Lucerne is delightful ; as good 
as the seashore at Dieppe or Trouville. Before you, 
limpid and blue, lies the lake, which from the char- 
acter of its shores, at once stern and graceful, 
is the finest in Switzerland. In front rises the 
snow-clad peaks of Uri, to the left the Rigi, to 
the right the austere Pilatus, almost always wearing 
his high cap of clouds. This beautiful walk on 
the quay, long and shady like the avenue of a 
gentleman's park, is the daily resort, toward four 
o'clock, of all the foreigners who are crowded 
in the hotels or packed in the boarding-houses. 
Here are Russian and Polish counts with long 
mustaches, and jDins set with false brilliants; 
Englishmen with fishes' or horses' heads; English- 
women with the figures of angels or of giraffes; 
Parisian women, daintily attired, sprightly, and 
coquettish; American women, free in their bear- 

86 



ALPINE RESORTS 



ing, and eccentric in their dress, and their men 
as stiff as the smoke-pipes of steamboats; German 
women, with languishing voices, drooping and pale 
like willow branches, fair-haired and blue-eyed, 
talking in the same breath of Goethe and the price 
of sausages, of the moon and their glass of beer, 
of stars and black radishes. And here and there 
are a few little Swiss girls, fresh and rosy as wood 
strawberries, smiling darlings like Dresden shep- 
herdesses, dreaming of scenes of platonic love in 
a great garden adorned with the statue of William 
Tell or General Dufour. 



ZURICH* 

BY W. D. M-'CRACKAN 

If you arrive in Zurich after dark, and pass 
along the river-front, you will think yourself for 
a moment in Venice. The street lamps glow re- 
sponsively across the dark Limmat, or trail their 
light from the bridges. In the uncertain darkness, 
the bare house walls of the farther side put on the 
dignity of palaces. There are unsuspected archi- 
tectural glories in the Wasserkirche and the Rath- 
haus, as they stand partly in the water of the river. 
And if, at such times, one of the long, narrow 
barges of the place passes up stream, the illusion 
is complete; for, as the boat cuts at intervals 
through the glare of gaslight it looks for all the 
world like a gondola. . . . 

Zurich need not rely upon any fancied resem- 

*From "Teutonic Switzerland." By special arrange- 
ment with, and by permission of, the publishers, L. C. 
Page & Co. Copyright, 1884. 

87 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

blance of this sort for a distinct charm of its own. 
The situation of the city is essentially beautiful, 
reminding one, in a general way, of that of Ge- 
neva, Lucerne, or Thun — at the outlet of a lake, 
and at the point of issue of a swift river. Ap- 
proaching from the lakeside, the twin towers of 
the Grossmiinster loom upon the light, capped 
by ugly rounded tops, like miters; upon the left, 
the simple spires of the Fraumiinster and St. Pe- 
ter's. A conglomeration of roofs denotes the city 
houses. On the water-front, extensive promenades 
stretch, crescent shaped, from end to end, cleverly 
laid out, tho as yet too new to quite fulfil their mis- 
sion of beauty. Some large white buildings form 
the front line on the lake — notably the theater, arid 
a few hotels and apartment houses. Finally, there 
where the River Limmat leaves the lake, a vista 
of bridges open into the heart of the city — a suc- 
cession of arches and lines that invite inspection. 
Like most progressive cities of Europe, Zurich 
has outgrown its feudal accouterments within the 
last fifty years. It has razed its walls, converted 
its bastions into playgrounds, and, pushing out 
on every side, has incorporated many neighboring 
villages, until to-day it contains more than ninetj!^ 
thousand inhabitants.* The pride of modem 
Zurich is the Bahnhof-strasse, a long street which 
leads from the railroad station to the lake. It is 
planted with trees, and counts as the one, and 
only boulevard of the city. Unfortunately, a good 
view of the distant snow mountains is very rare 
from the lake promenade, altho they appear with 
distinctness upon the photographs sold in the shops. 

*The population in 1902 had risen to 152,000. 

88 



ALPINE RESORTS 



Early every Saturday the peasant women come 
trooping in, with their vegetables, fruits, and 
flowers, to line the Bahnhof-strasse with carts and 
baskets. The ladies and kitchen-maids of the city 
come to buy; but by noon the market is over. 
In a jiffy, the street is swept as clean as a kitchen 
floor, and the women have turned their backs on 
Zurich. But the real center of attraction in 
Zurich will be found by the traveler in that quarter 
where stands the Grossmiinster, the church of 
which Zwingli was incumbent for twelve years. 

It may well be called the Wittenberg church 
of Switzerland. The present building dates from 
the eleventh and twelfth centuries; but tradition 
has it that the first minster was founded by 
Charlemagne. That ubiquitous emperor certainly 
manifested great interest in Zurich. He has been 
represented no less than three times in various 
parts of the building. About midway up one of 
the towers, his statue appears in a niche, where 
pigeons strut and prink their feathers, undis- 
turbed. Charlemagne is sitting with a mighty 
two-edged sword upon his knees, and a gilded 
crown upon his head; but the figure is badly pro- 
portioned, and the statue is a good-natured, stumpy 
affair, that makes one smile rather than admire. 
The outside of the minster still shows traces of 
the image breakers of Zwingli's time, and yet the 
crumbling north portal remains beautiful, even 
in decay. As for the interior, it has an exceedingly 
bare and stript appearance; for, altho there is 
good, solid stonework in the walls, the whole has 
been washed a foolish, Philistine white. The Ro- 
manesque of the architectural is said to be of par- 
ticular interest to connoisseurs, and the queer 

89 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

archaic capitals must certainly attract the notice 
even of ordinary tourists. . . . 

It is also worth while to go to the Helmhaus, 
and examine the collection of lake-dwelling re- 
mains. In fact, there is a delightful little model 
of a lake-dwelling itself, and an appliance to show 
you how those primitive people could make holes 
in their stone implements, before they knew the 
use of metals. The ancient guild houses of 
Zurich are worth a special study. Take, for in- 
stance, that of the "Zimmerleute," or carpenter 
with its supporting arches and little peaked tower; 
or the so-called "Waag," with frescoed front; 
then the great wainscoated and paneled hall of the 
"Schmieden" (smiths) ; and the rich Renaissance 
stonework of the "Maurer" (masons). These build- 
ings, alas, with the decay of the system which pro- 
duced them, have been obliged to put up big signs 
of Cafe Restaurant upon their historic fagades, 
like so many vulgar, modern eating-houses. 

The Rathhaus, or Town Hall, too, is charming. 
It stands, like the Wasserkirehe, with one side in 
the water and the other against the quay. The 
style is a sort of reposeful Italian Renaissance, 
that is florid only in the best artistic sense. Nor 
must you miss the so-called "Riiden," nearby, for 
its sloping roof and painted walls give it a very 
captivating look of alert picturesqueness, and it 
contains a large collection of Pestalozzi souvenirs. 

Zurich has more than one claim to the world's 
recognition; but no department of its active life, 
perhaps, merits such unstinted praise as its educa- 
tional facilities. First and foremost, the Uni- 
versity, with four faculties, modeled upon the 
German system, but retaining certain distinctive 

90 



ALPINE RESORTS 



traits that are essentially Swiss — for instance, the 
broad and liberal treatment accorded to women 
students, who are admitted as freely as men, and 
receive the same instruction. A great number of 
Russian girls are always to be seen in Zurich, 
as at other Swiss universities, working unremit- 
tingly to acquire the degrees which they are denied 
at home. Not a few American women also have 
availed themselves of these facilities, especially for 
the study of medicine. . . . 

Zurich is, at the present time, undoubtedly the 
most important commercial city in Switzerland, 
having distanced both Basel and Geneva in this 
direction. The manufacturing of silk, woolen, 
and linen fabrics has flourished here since the end 
of the thirteenth century. In modem times, how- 
ever, cotton and machinery have been added as 
staple articles of manufacture. Much of the actual 
weaving is still done in outlying parts of the Can- 
ton, in the very cottages of the peasants, so that 
the click of the loom is heard from open windows 
in every village and hamlet. 

But modern industrial processes are tending con- 
tinually to drive the weavers from their homes 
into great centralized factories, and every year this 
inevitable change becomes more apparent. It is 
certainly remarkable that Zurich should succeed 
in turning out cheap and good machinery, when 
we remember that every ton of coal and iron has 
to be imported, since Switzerland possesses not a 
single mine, either of the one or the other. 



91 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 
THE RIGI* 

BY W. D. M^CRACKAN" 

If you really want to know how the Swiss Con- 
federation came to be, you can not do better than 
take the train to the top of the Rigi. You might 
stumble through many a volume, and not learn so 
thoroughly the essential causes of this national 
birth. 

Of course, the eye rests first upon the phalanx 
of snow-crests to the south, then down upon the 
lake, lying outstretched like some wriggling mon- 
ster, switching its tail, and finally off to the many 
places where early Swiss history was made. In 
point of fact, you are looking at quite a large slice 
of Switzerland. Victor Hugo seized the meaning 
of this view when he wrote : "It is a serious hour, 
and full of meditations, when one has Switzerland 
thus under the eyes." . . . 

The physical features of a country have their 
counterparts in its political institutions. In 
Switzerland the great mountain ranges divide the 
territory into deep valleys, each of which natu- 
rally forms a political unit — the Commune. Here 
is a miniature world, concentrated into a small 
space, and representing the sum total of life to its 
inhabitants. Self-government becomes second na- 
ture under these conditions. A sort of patriarchal 
democracy is evolved: that is, certain men and 
certain families are apt to maintain themselves 

*From "Teutonic Switzerland." By special arrange- 
ment with, and by permission of, the publishers, L. C. 
Page & Co. Copyright, 1894. 

92 " 



ALPINE RESORTS 



at the head of public affairs, but with the consent 
and cooperation of the whole population. 

There is hardly a spot associated with the rise 
of the Swiss Confederation whose position can not 
be determined from the Rigi. The two Tell's 
chapels; the Riitli; the villages of Schwiz, Alt- 
dorf, Brunnen, Beckenried, Stans, and Sarnen; 
the battlefields of Morgarten and Sempach; and 
on a clear day the ruined castle of Hapsburg it- 
self, lie within a mighty circle at one's feet. 

It was preordained that the three lands of Uri, 
Schwiz, and Unterwalden should unite for protec- 
tion of common interests against the encroachment 
of a common enemy — the ambitious house of Haps- 
burg. The lake formed at once a bond and a high- 
way between them. On the first day of August, 
1291, more than six hundred years ago, a group of 
unpretentious patriots, ignored by the great world, 
signed a document which formed these lands into 
a loose Confederation. By this act they laid the 
foundation upon which the Swiss state was after- 
ward reared. In their naive, but prophetic, faith, 
the contracting parties called this agreement a 
perpetual pact; and they set forth, in the Latin, 
legal phraseology of the day, that, seeing the malice 
of the times, they found it necessary to take an 
oath to defend one another against outsiders, and 
to keep order within their boundaries ; at the same 
time carefully stating that the object of the league 
was to maintain lawfully established conditions. 

From small beginnings, the Confederation of 
Uri, Schwiz, and Unterwalden grew, by the addi- 
tion of other communities, until it reached its pres- 
ent proportions, of twenty-two Cantons, in 1815. 
Lucerne was the first to join; then came Zurich, 

93 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

Glarus, Zug, Bern, etc. The early Swiss did not 
set up a sovereign republic, in our acceptation of 
the word, either in internal or external policy. 
The class distinctions of the feudal age continued 
to exist; and they by no means disputed the su- 
preme rule of the head of the German Empire over 
them, but rather gloried in the protection which 
this direct dependence afforded them against a 
multitude of intermediate, preying nobles. 



CHAMOUNI— AN AVALANCHE* 

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

From Servoz three leagues remain to Chamouni 
— Mont Blanc was before us — the Alps, with their 
innumerable glaciers on high all around, closing 
in the complicated windings of the single vale — 
forests inexpressibly beautiful, but majestic in their 
beauty — intermingled beech and pine, and oak, 
overshadowed our road, or receded, while lawns 
of such vendure as I have never seen before occu- 
pied these openings, and gradually became darker 
in their recesses. Mont Blanc was before us, but 
it was covered with cloud; its base, furrowed with 
dreadful gaps, was seen a'f^'"'ve. Pinnacles of snow 
intolerably bright, part of the chain connected with 
Mont Blanc, shone through the clouds at intervals 

*From "The Letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley." 
Politically, Chamouni is in France, but the aim here 
has been to bring into one volume all the more popular 
Alpine resorts. Articles on the Tyrol and the Dolo- 
inites will also be found, in this volume — under "Other 
Austrian Scenes." 

94 



ALPINE RESORTS 



on high. I never knew — I never imagined — what 
mountains were before. 

The immensity of these aerial summits excited, 
when they suddenly burst upon the sight, a senti- 
ment of ecstatic wonder, not unallied to madness. 
And, remember, this was all one scene, it all prest 
home to our regard and our imagination. Tho it 
embraced a vast extent of space, the snowy pyra- 
mids which shot into the bright blue sky seemed to 
overhang our path ; the ravine, clothed with gigan- 
tic pines, and black with its depth below, so deep 
that the very roaring of the untameable Arve, 
which rolled through it, could not be heard above — 
all was as much our own, as if we had been the 
creators of such impressions in the minds of others 
as now occupied our own. Nature was the poet, 
whose harmony held our spirits more breathless 
than that of the divinest. 

As we entered the valley of the Chamouni 
(which, in fact, may be considered as a continua- 
tion of those which we have followed from Bonne- 
ville and Cluses), clouds hung upon the mountains 
at the distance perhaps of 6,000 feet from the 
earth, but so as effectually to conceal not only 
Mont Blanc, but the other "aiguilles," as they call 
them here, attached and subordinate to it. We 
were traveling along the valley, when suddenly we 
heard a sound as the burst of smothered thunder 
rolling above; yet there was something in the 
sound that told us it could not be thunder. Our 
guide hastily pointed out to us a part of the moun- 
tain opposite, from whence the sound came. It 
was an avalanche. We saw the smoke of its path 
among the rocks, and continued to hear at inter- 
vals the bursting of its fall. It fell on the bed of 

95 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

a torrent, which it displaced, and presently we 
saw its tawny-colored waters also spread them- 
selves over the ravine, which was their couch. 

We did not, as we intended, visit the Glacier 
des Bossons to-day, altho it descends within a few 
minutes' walk of the road, wishing to survey it 
at least when unfatigued. We saw this glacier, 
which comes close to the fertile plain, as we passed. 
Its surface was broken into a thousand unaccount- 
able figures; conical and pyramidical crystalliza- 
tions, more than fifty feet in height, rise from its 
surface, and precipices of ice, of dazzling splen- 
dor, overhang the woods and meadows of the vale. 
This glacier winds upward from the valley, until 
it joins the masses of frost from which it was 
produced above, winding through its own ravine 
like a bright belt flung over the black region of 
pines. 

There is more in all these scenes than mere mag- 
nitude of proportion; there is a majesty of out- 
line; there is an awful grace in the very colors 
which invest these wonderful shapes — a charm 
which is peculiar to them, quite distinct even from 
the reality of their unutterable greatness. 



ZERMATT* 

BY ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL KNOVTLES 

Those who would reach the very heart of the 
Alps and look upon a scene of unparalleled gran- 
deur must go into the Valais to Zermatt. 

♦From "Adventures in the Alps." Published by 
George W. Jacobs & Co. 

96 



I^i 





rONTRESlXA IX THE EX(iAI)IXE 




V. n — 2 



ST. ^rORITZ IX THE EX(;ADIXE 




FKIBOURG 




WW*. 







BERNE 




VIVEY ON LAKE GEXEVA 




Courtesy Swiss Federal Railway 

THE TURXHALLE IX ZURICH 



i™i^Sdisir*Jtt»-= 



,Bfei*sg,?-.-»f,:^^ 





INTEKLAKEN" 




LUCER^^E 




Copyright, Underwood & Underwood 

THE BALMAT-SAUSSURE MOlsTUMENT IN" CHAMONIX 
(Mont Blanc in the distance) 




ROOFED WOODEN BRIDGE AT LUCERNE 




THE CASTLE OF CHTLLON 





Courtesy Swiss Federal Railway 

CLOUD EFFECT ABOVE INTERLAKEIsT 




Coii-rte?y Swi?g Federal Railway 

DAVOS IN AVINTEE 



ALPINE RESORTS 



The way up the valley is that which follows the 
River Visp. It is a delightful journey. The little 
stream is never still. It will scarcely keep con- 
fined to the banks or within the stone walls which 
in many places protect the shores. The river 
dances along as if seeking to be free. For the most 
part it is a torrent, sweeping swiftly past the 
solid masonry and descending the steep bed in a 
series of wild leaps or artificial waterfalls, with 
wonderful effects of sunlight seen in the showers 
of spray. Fed as it is by many mountain streams, 
the Visp is always full, and the more so, when in 
summer the melting ice adds to its volume. 

Then it is a sight long remembered, as roaring, 
rollicking, rushing along it is a brawling mass of 
waters, often working havoc with banks, road, 
village, and pastures. If one never saw a moun- 
tain, the sight of the Visp would more than repay, 
but, as it is, one's attention is taxed to the utter- 
most not to miss anything of this little rushing 
river and at the same time get the charming views 
of the Weisshorn, the Breithom, and the other 
snow summits which appear over the mountain 
spurs surrounding the head of the valley. 

The first impression on reaching the Zermatt is 
one of disappointment. Maps and pictures gen- 
erally lead the traveler to think that from the vil- 
lage he will see the great semicircle of snow peaks 
which surround the valley, but upon arrival he 
finds that he must go further up to see them, for 
all of them are hidden from view except the 
Matter Jiom. 

This mountain, however, is seen in all its gran- 
deur, fierce and frowning, and to an imaginative 
mind bending forward as if threatening and try- 

VI— 7 97 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ing to shake off the little snow that appears here 
and there on its side. It dominates the whole 
scene and leaves an indelible impress on the mind, 
so that one can never picture Zermatt without 
the Matterhom. 

Zermatt as a place is a curious combination; a 
line of hotels in juxtaposition with a village of 
chalets, unsophisticated peasants shoulder to 
shoulder with people of fashion! There are 
funny little shops, here showing only such simple 
things as are needed by the dwellers in the Valais, 
there exhibiting really beautiful articles in dress 
and jewelry to attract the summer visitors, while 
at convenient spots are the inevitable tea-rooms, 
where "The, Cafe, Limonade, Confiserie" minister 
to the coming crowds of an afternoon. . . . 

Guides galore wait in front of all the large 
hotels; ice-axes, ropes, nailed boots, rucksacks, 
and all the paraphernalia of the mountains are 
seen on every side, and a walk along the one main 
thoroughfare introduces one into the life of a 
climbing center, interesting to a degree and often 
very amusing from the miscellaneous collection of 
people there. 

Perhaps the first thing one cares to see at Zer- 
matt is the village church, with the adjoining 
churchyard. The church, dedicated to Saint Mau- 
rice, a favorite saint in the Valais and Rhone dis- 
trict, is plain but interesting and in parts is quite 
old. Near it is a little mortuary chapel. In most 
parts of Switzerland, it is the custom, after the 
bodies of the dead have been buried a certain 
length of time, to remove the remains to the 
"cbamel house," allowing the graves to be used 
again and thus not encroaching upon the space 

98 



ALPINE RESORTS 



resented and consecrated in the churchyard, but 
we do not think this custom obtains at Zermatt. 

In the churchyard is a monument to Michel 

• Auguste Croz, the guide, and near by are the 

graves of the Reverend Charles Hudson and Mr. 

Hadow. These three, with Lord Francis Douglas 

''^ were killed in Mr. Whymper's first ascent of the 

■ Matterhorn.* The body of Lord Francis Douglas 

has never been found. It is probably deep in 

some crevasse or under the snows which surround 

the base of the Matterhorn. . . . 

For the more extended climbs or for excur- 
sions in the direction of the Schwarzsee, the Staffel 
Alp or the Trift, Zermatt is the starting point. 
The place abounds in walks, most of them being 
the first part of the routes to the high mountains^ 
so that those who are fond of tramping but not 
of climbing can reach high elevations with a little 
hard work, but no great difficulty. Some of these 
'^midway" places may be visited on muleback, and 
with the railway now up to the Gorner-Grat there 
are few persons who may not see this wonderful 
region of snow peaks. 

The trip to the Schwarzsee is the first stage on 
the Matterhorn route. It leads through the vil- 
lage, past the Gorner Gorges (which one may 
visit by a slight detour) and then enters some very 
pretty woods, from which one issues on to the 
bare green meadows which clothe the upper part 
of the steep slope of the mountain. As one mounts 
this zigzag path, it sometimes seems as if it 
would never end, and for all the magnificent views 

♦For Mr. Whymper's own account of this famous 
ascent, see page 127 of this volume. 



99 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

which it affords, one is always glad that it is over, 
as it exactly fulfils the conditions of a "grind." 

From the Schwarzsee (8,495 feet, where there is 
an excellent hotel), there is a fine survey of the 
Matterhorn, and also a splendid panorama on three 
sides, one view up the glaciers toward the Monte 
Rosa, another over the valley to the Dent Blanche 
and other great peaks, and still another to the far 
distant Bernese Oberland. Near the hotel is a 
little lake and a tiny chapel, where mass is some- 
times said. The reflection in the still waters of 
the lake is very lovely. 

From the Schwarzsee, trips are made to the 
Hornli (another stage on the way to the Matter- 
horn), to the Gandegg Hut, across moraine and 
glacier and to the Staffel Alp, over the green 
meadows. The Hornli (9,490 feet high) is the 
ridge running out from the Matterhorn. It is 
reached by a stiff climb over rocks and a huge 
heap of fallen stones and debris. From it the 
view is similar to that from the Schwarzsee, but 
much finer, the Theodule Glacier being seen to 
great advantage. Above the Hornli towers the 
Matterhorn, huge, fierce, frowning, threatening. 
Every few moments comes a heavy, muffled sound, 
as new showers of falling stones come down. This 
is one of the main dangers in climbing the peak 
itself, for from base to summit, the Matterhorn 
is really a decaying mountain, the stones rolling 
away through the action of the storms, the frosts, 
and the sun. 



100 



ALPINE RESORTS 



PONTR^SINA AND ST. MORITZ* 

BY VICTOR TISSOT 

The night was falling" fine as dust, as a black 
sifted snow-shower, a snow made of shadow; and 
the melancholy of the landscape, the grand noc- 
turnal solitude of these lofty, unknown regions, 
had a charm profound and disquieting. I do not 
know why I fancied myself no longer in Switzer- 
land, but in some country near the pole, in Swe- 
den or Norway. At the foot of these bare moun- 
tains I looked for wild fjords, lit up by the moon. 

Nothing can express the profound sombemess 
of these landscapes at nightfall; the long desert 
road, gray from the reflections of the starry sky, 
unrolls in an interminable ribbon along the depth 
of the valley; the treeless mountains, hollowed 
out like ancient craters, lift their overhanging 
precipices; lakes sleeping in the midst of the 
pastures, behind curtains of pines and larches, 
glitter like drops of quicksilver; and on the 
horizon the immense glaciers crowd together and 
overflow like sheets of foam on a frozen sea. 

The road ascends. From the distance comes a 
dull noise, the roaring of a torrent. We cross a 
little cluster of trees, and on issuing from it the 
superb amphitheater of glaciers shows itself anew, 
overlooked by one white point glittering like an 
opal. On the hill a thousand little lights show me 
that I am at last at Pontresina. I thought I should 
never have arrived there; nowhere does night de- 
ceive more than in the mountains; in proportion 

*From "Unknown Switzerland." Published by James 
Pott & Co. 

101 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

as you advance toward a point, it seems to retreat 
from you. 

Soon the black fantastic lines of the houses 
show through the darkness. I enter a narrow 
street, formed of great gloomy buildings, their 
fronts like a convent or prison. The hamlet is 
transformed into a little town of hotels, very 
comfortable, very elegant, very dear, but very 
stupid and very vulgar, with their laced porter in 
an admiral's hat, and their whiskered waiters, who 
have the air of Anglican ministers. Oh ! how I 
detest them, and flee them, those hotels where the 
painter, or the tourist who arrives on foot, knap- 
sack on his back and staff in hand, his trousers 
tucked into his leggings, his flask slung over his 
shoulder, and his hat awry, is received with less 
courtesy than a lackey. 

Besides those hotels, some of which are veri- 
table palaces, and where the ladies are almost 
bound to change their dress three times a day, 
there is a hotel of the second and third class; and 
there is the old inn; the comfortable, hospitable, 
patriarchal inn, with its Gothic signboard. . . . 

On leaving the village I was again in the open 
mountain. In the distance the road penetrated 
into the valley, rising always. The moon had 
risen. She stood out sharply cut in a cloudless 
sky, and stars sparkling everywhere in profusion; 
not like nails of gold, but sown broadcast like a 
flying dust, a dust of carbuncles and diamonds. 
To the right, in the depths of the amphitheater of 
the mountains, an immense glacier looked like a 
frozen cascade; and above, a perfectly white peak 
rose draped in snow, like some legendary king in 
his mantle of silver. 

102 



ALPINE RESORTS 



Bending under my knapsack, and dragging my 
feet, I arrive at last at the hotel, where I am 
received, in the kindest manner in the world, by 
the two mistresses of the establishment, two sisters 
of open, benevolent countenance and of sweet 
expression. 

And the poor little traveler who arrives, his 
bag on his back and without bustle, who has sent 
neither letter nor telegram to announce his arrival, 
is the object of the kindest and most delicate 
attentions; his clothes are brushed, he gets water 
for his refreshment, and is then conducted to a 
table bountifully spread, in a dining-room fragrant 
with good cookery and bouquets of flowers. . . . 

Beyond Campfer, its houses surrounding a third 
little lake, we come suddenly on a scene of extraor- 
dinary animation. All the cosmopolitan society of 
St. Moritz is there, sauntering, walking, running, 
in mountain parties, on afternoon excursions. 
The favorite one is the walk to the pretty lake 
of Campfer, with its shady margin, its resting 
places hidden among the branches, its chalet- 
restaurant, from the terrace of which one over- 
looks the whole valley; and it would be difficult to 
find near St. Moritz a more interesting spot. 

We meet at every step parties of English ladies, 
looking like plantations of umbrellas with their 
covers on and surmounted by immense straw hats; 
then there are German ladies, massive as citadels, 
but not impregnable, asking nothing better than 
to surrender to the young exquisites, with the 
figure of cuirassiers, who accompany them; fur- 
ther on, lively Italian ladies parade themselves in 
dresses of the carnival, the colors outrageously 
striking and dazzling to the eyes; with up-turned 

103 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

skirts they cross the Inn on great mossy stones, 
leaping with the grace of birds, and smiling, to 
show, into the bargain, the whiteness of their 
teeth. All this crowd passing in procession before 
us is composed of men and women of every age 
and condition; some with the grave face of a 
waxen saint, others beaming with the satisfied 
smile of rich people; there are also invalids, who 
go along hobbling and limping, or who are drawn 
in little carriages. 

Soon handsome facades, pierced with hundreds 
of windows, show themselves in the grand and 
severe setting of mountains and glaciers. It is 
St. Moritz-les-Bains. Here every house is a hotel, 
and, as every hotel is a little palace, we do not 
alight from the diligence; we go a little farther 
and a little higher, to St. Moritz-le-Village, which 
has a much more beautiful situation. It is at the 
top of a little hill, whose sides slope down to a 
pretty lake, fresh and green as a lawn. The eye 
reaches beyond Sils, the whole length of the valley, 
with its mountains like embattled ramparts, its 
lakes like a great w of pearls, and its glaciers 
showing their piles of snowy white against the 
azure depths of the horizon. 

St. Moritz is the center of the valley of the 
Upper Engadine, which extends to the length of 
eighteen or nineteen leagues, and which scarcely 
possesses a thousand inhabitants. Almost all the 
men emigrate to work for strangers, like their 
brothers, the mountaineers of Savoy and Au- 
vergne, and do not return till they have amassed a 
sufficient fortune to allow them to build a little 
white house, with gilded window frames, and to 
die quietly in the spot where they were born. . . . 

104 



ALPINE RESORTS 



Historians tell us that the first inhabitants of 
the Upper Engadine were Etruscans and Latins 
chased from Italy by the Gauls and Carthaginians, 
and taking refuge in these hidden altitudes. 
After the fall of the Empire, the inhabitants of 
the Engadine fell under the dominion of the 
Franks and Lombards, then the Dukes of Swabia; 
but the blood never mingled — the type remained 
Italian; black hair, the quick eye, the mobile 
countenance, the expressive features, and the 
supple figure. 



GENEVA* 

BY FRANCIS H. GRIBBLE 

Straddling the Rhone, where it issues from the 
bluest lake in the world, looking out upon green 
meadows and wooded hills, backed by the dark 
ridge of the Saleve, with the "great white moun- 
tain" visible in the distance, Geneva has the ad- 
vantage of an incomparable site; and it is, from a 
town surveyor's point of view, well built. It has 
wide thoroughfares, quays, and bridges; gorgeous 
public monuments and well-kept public gardens; 
handsome theaters and museums; long rows of 
palatial hotels; flourishing suburbs; two railway- 
stations, and a casino. But all this is merely the 
fagade — all of it quite modern; hardly any of it 
more than half a century old. The real historical 
Geneva — the little of it that remains — is hidden 
away in the background, where not every tourist 
troubles to look for it. 

*From "Geneva." 

105 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

It is disappearing fast. Italian stonemasons 
are constantly engaged in driving lines through 
it. They have rebuilt, for instance, the old Cor- 
raterie, which is now the Regent Street of Geneva, 
famous for its confectioners' and booksellers' 
shops; they have destroyed, and are still destroy- 
ing, other ancient slums, setting up white build- 
ings of uniform ugliness in place of the pictures- 
que but insanitary dwellings of the past. It is, 
no doubt, a very necessary reform, tho one may 
think that it is being executed in too utilitarian a 
spirit. The old Geneva was malodorous, and its 
death-rate was high. They had more than one 
Great Plague there, and their Great Fires have 
always left some of the worst of their slums un- 
touched. These could not be allowed to stand in 
an age which studies the science and practises 
the art of hygiene. Yet the traveler who wants 
to know what the old Geneva was reaUy like must 
spend a morning or two rambling among them 
before they are pulled down. 

The old Geneva, like Jerusalem, was set upon 
a hill, and it is toward the top of the hill that 
the few buildings of historical interest are to be 
found. There is the cathedral — a striking object 
from a distance, tho the interior is hideously bare. 
There is the Town Hall, in which, for the con- 
venience of notables carried in litters, the upper 
stories were reached by an inclined plane instead 
of a staircase. There is Calvin's old Academy, 
bearing more than a slight resemblance to certain 
of the smaller colleges at Oxford and Cambridge. 
There, too, are to be seen a few mural tablets, in- 
dicating the residences of past celebrities. In such 
a bouse Rousseau was born; in such another house 

106 



ALPINE RESORTS 



— or in an older house, now demolished, on the same 
site — Calvin died. And toward these central 
points the steep and narrow, mean streets — in 
many cases streets of stairs — converge. 

As one plunges into these streets one seems 
to pass back from the twentieth century to the 
fifteenth, and need not exercise one's imagination 
very severely in order to picture the town as it 
appeared in the old days before the Reformation. 
The present writer may claim permission to bor- 
row his own description from the pages of "Lake 
Geneva and its Literary Landmarks :" 

"Narrow streets predominated, tho there were 
also a certain number of open spaces — notably at 
the markets, and in front of the Cathedral, where 
there was a traffic in those relics and rosaries 
which Geneva was j3resently to repudiate with 
virtuous indignation. One can form an idea of 
the appearance of the narrow streets by imagining* 
the oldest houses that one has seen in Switzerland 
all closely packed together — houses at the most 
three stories high, with gabled roofs, ground- 
floors a step or two below the level of the road- 
way, and huge arched doors studded with great 
iron nails, and looking strong enough to resist 
a battering-ram. Above the doors, in the case 
of the better houses, were the painted escutcheons 
of the residents, and crests were also often bla- 
zoned on the window-panes. The shops, too, and 
more especially the inns, flaunted gaudy sign- 
boards with ingenious devices. The Good Vine- 
gar, the Hot Knife, the Crowned Ox, were the 
names of some of these ; their tariff is said to have 
been fivepence a day for man and beast." .... 

In the first half of the sixteenth century oceur- 



107 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

red the two events which shaped the future of 
Geneva; Reformation theology was accepted; po- 
litical independence was achieved. Geneva it 
should be explained, was the fief of the duchy 
of Savoy; or so, at all events, the Dukes 
of Savoy maintained, tho the citizens were 
of the contrary opinion. Their view was that they 
owed allegiance only to their Bishops, who were 
the Viceroys of the Holy Roman Emperor; and 
even that allegiance was limited by the terms of 
a Charter granted in the Holy Roman Emperor^s 
name by Bishop Adhemar de Fabri. All went 
fairly well until the Bishops began to play into the 
hands of the Pukes; but then there was friction, 
which rapidly became acute. A revolutionary 
party — the Eidgenossen, or Confederates — was 
formed. There was a Declaration of Independence 
and a civil war. 

So long as the Genevans stood alone, the Duke 
was too strong for them. He marched into the 
town in the style of a conqueror, and wreaked his 
vengeance on as many of his enemies as he could 
catch. He cut off the head of Philibert Berthelier, 
to whom there stands a memorial on the island in 
the Rhone; he caused Jean Pecolat to be hung up 
in an absurd posture in his banqueting-hall, in 
order that he might mock at his discomfort while 
he dined ; he executed, with or without preliminary 
torture, several less conspicuous patriots. Happily, 
however, some of the patriots — ^notably Besangon 
Hugues — got safely away, and succeeded in con- 
cluding threaties of alliance between Geneva and 
the cantons of Berne and Fribourg. 

The men of Fribourg marched to Geneva, and 
the Duke retired. The citizens passed a resolution 

108 



ALPINE RESORTS 



that he should never be allowed to enter the town 
again, seeing that he "never came there without 
playing the citizens some dirty trick or other;" 
and, the more effectually to prevent him from com- 
ing, they pulled down their suburbs and repaired 
their ramparts, one member of every household 
being required to lend a hand for the purpose. 

Presently, owing to religious dissensions, Fri- 
bourg withdrew from the alliance. Berne, however, 
adhered to it, and, in due course, responded to the 
appeal for help by setting an army of seven thou- 
sand men in motion. The route of the seven thou- 
sand lay through the canton of Vaud, then a por- 
tion of the Duke's dominions, governed from the 
Castle of Chiilon. Meeting with no resistance save 
at Yverdon, they annexed the territory, placing 
governors of their own in its various strong- 
holds. The Governor of Chiilon fled, leaving his 
garrison to surrender; and in its deepest dun- 
geon was found the famous prisoner of Chiilon, 
FranQois de Bonivard. From that time forward 
Geneva was a free republic, owing allegiance to 
no higher power. 



THE CASTLE OF CHILLON* 

BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 

Here I am, sitting at my window, overlooking 
Lake Leman. Castle Chiilon, with its old conical 
towers, is silently pictured in the still waters. 
It has been a day of a thousand. We took a boat, 

"From "Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands." 

109 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

with two oarsmen, and passed leisurely along the 
shores, under the cool, drooping branches of trees, 
to the castle, which is scarce a stone's throw 
from the hotel. We rowed along, close under the 
walls, to the ancient moat and drawbridge. There 
I picked a bunch of blue bells, "les clochettes," 
which were hanging their aerial pendants from 
every crevice — some blue, some white. . . . 

We rowed along, almost touching the castle 
rock, where the wall ascends perpendicularly, and 
the water is said to be a thousand feet deep. We 
passed the loopholes that illuminate the dungeon 
vaults, and an old arch, now walled up, where 
prisoners, after having been strangled, were thrown 
into the lake. 

Last evening we walked through the castle. An 
interesting Swiss woman, who has taught herself 
English for the benefit of her visitors, was our 
"cicerone." She seemed to have all the old Swiss 
vivacity of attachment for "liberte et patrie." She 
took us first into the dungeon, with the seven pil- 
lars, described by Byron. There was the pillar 
to which, for protecting the liberty of Geneva, 
Bonivard was chained. There the Duke of Savoy 
kept him for six years, confined by a chain four 
feet long. He could take only three steps, and the 
stone floor is deeply worn by the prints of those 
weary steps. Six years is so easily said; but to 
live them, alone, helpless, a man burning with all 
the fires of manhood, chained to that pillar of stone, 
and those three unvarying steps! Two thousand 
one hundred and ninety days rose and set the sun, 
while seed time and harvest, winter and summer, 
and the whole living world went on over his grave. 
Por him no sun, no moon, no stars, no business, no 

110 



ALPINE RESORTS 



friendship, no plans — nothing! The great mill- 
stone of life emptily grinding itself away! 

What a power of vitality was there in Boni- 
vard, that he did not sink in lethargy, and forget 
himself to stone ! But he did not ; it is said that 
when the victorious Swiss army broke in to liber- 
ate him, they cried, 

"Bonivard, you are free!" 

"And Geneva?" 

"Geneva is free also !" 

You ought to have heard the enthusiasm with 
which our guide told this story ! 

Near by are the relics of the cell of a companion 
of Bonivard, who made an ineffectual attempt to 
liberate him. On the wall are still seen sketches 
of saints and inscriptions by his hand. This man 
one day overcame his jailer, locked him in his cell, 
ran into the hall above, and threw himself from 
a window into the lake, struck a rock, and was 
killed instantly. One of the pillars in this vault 
is covered with names. I think it is Bonivard's 
pillar. There are the names of Byron, Hunt, 
Schiller, and many other celebrities. 

After we left the dungeons we went up into 
the judgment hall, where prisoners were tried, 
and then into the torture chamber. Here are 
the pulleys by Avhich limbs are broken; the beam, 
all scorched with the irons by which feet were 
burned; the oven where the irons were heated; 
and there was the stone where they were sometimes 
laid to be strangled, after the torture. On that 
stone, our guide told us, two thousand Jews, men, 
women, and children, had been put to death. 
There was also, high up, a strong beam across, 
where criminals were hung; and a door, now wall- 
Ill 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ed up, by which they were thrown into the lake. I 
shivered. ^''Twas cruel/' she said; "'twas almost 
as cruel as your slavery in America."* 

Then she took us into a tower where was the 
"oubliette." Here the unfortunate prisoner was 
made to kneel before an image of the Virgin, 
while the treacherous floor, falling beneath him, 
precipitated him into a well forty feet deep, where 
he was left to die of broken limbs and starvation. 
Below this well was still another pit, filled with 
knives, into which, when they were disposed to a 
merciful hastening of the torture, they let him fall. 
The woman has been herself to the bottom of the 
first dungeon, and found there bones of victims. 
The second pit is now walled up. . . . 

To-night, after sunset, we rowed to Byron's 
"little isle," the only one in the lake. 0, the un- 
utterable beauty of these mountains — great, pur- 
ple waves, as if they had been dashed up by a 
mighty tempest, crested with snow-like foam! this 
purple sky, and crescent moon, and the lake 
gleaming and shimmering, and twinkling stars, 
while far off up the sides of a snow-topped moun- 
tain a light shines like a star — some mountaineer's 
candle, I suppose. 

In the dark stillness we rode again over to 
Chillon, and paused under its walls. The frogs 
were croaking in the moat, and we lay rocking on 
the wave, and watching the dusky outlines of the 
towers and turrets. Then the spirit of the scene 
seemed to wrap me round like a cloak. Back 
to Geneva again. This lovely place will ever leave 
its image on my heart. Mountains embrace it. 

*Mrs. Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin" had been pub- 
lished about a year when tliis remark was made to 
her. 

112 



ALPINE RESORTS 



BY RAIL UP THE GORNER-GRAT* 

BY AECHIBALD CAMPBELL KNOWLES 

To see the splendid array of snow peaks and 
glaciers which makes the sky line above Zermatt, 
one must leave the valley and walk or climb to 
a higher level. An ideal spot for this is the Hotel 
Riffel Alp. Both the situation and the Hotel 
outrival and surpass any similar places in the 
Alps. "Far from the madding crowd," on a little 
plateau bounded by pines and pastures stands the 
Hotel, some two thousand feet above Zermatt and 
at an altitude of over 7,000 feet. The outlook is 
superb, the air splendid, the quiet most restful. 
Two little churches, the one for Roman Catholics,, 
the other for members of the Church of England 
minister to the spiritual needs of the visitors and 
stamp religion upon a situation grand and sublime. 

Those who come here are lovers of the moun- 
tains who enjoy the open life. It is a place not so 
much for "les grands excursions" as for long walks, 
easy climbs and the beginnings of mountaineer- 
ing. Many persons spend the entire day out, pre- 
ferring to eat their dejeuner "informally," perch- 
ed above some safe precipice, or on a glacier- 
bordered rock or in the shade of the cool woods, 
but there are always some who linger both morn- 
ing and afternoon on the terrace with its far ex- 
panse of view, with the bright sunshine streaming 
down upon them. 

One great charm of the Riff el Alp is the proxim- 
ity to the snow. An hour will bring one either to the- 

♦From "Adventures in the Alps." Published by- 
George W. Jacobs & Co. 

VI— 8 113 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

Gorner Glacier or to the Findelen Glacier, while a 
somewhat longer time will lead to other stretches 
of snow and ice, where the climber may sit and 
survey the seracs and crevasses or walk about on 
the great frozen rivers. This is said to be bene- 
ficial to the nervous system as many physicians 
maintain that the glaciers contain a large amount 
of radium. 

Before essaying any of the longer or harder 
trips however, the traveler first of all generally 
goes to the Gomer-Grat, the rocky ridge that runs 
up from Zermatt to a point 10,290 feet high. Many 
people still walk up, but since the railroad was 
built, even those who feel it to be a matter of 
conscience to inveigh against any kind of progress 
which ministers to the pleasures of the masses, 
are found among those who prefer to ascend by 
electricity. The trip up is often made very amus- 
ing as among the crowds are always some, who 
knowing really nothing of the place, feel it in- 
cumbent upon themselves to point out all of the 
peaks, in a way quite discomposing to anybody 
familiar with the locality or versed in geography! 
Quite a luxurious little hotel now surmounts the 
top of the Gorner-Grat. In it, about it and above 
it, on the walled terrace assembles a motley crowd 
every clear day in summer, clad in every variety 
of costume, conventional and unconventional. . . . 

An ordinary scene would be ruined by such a 
crowd, but not so the Gorner-Grat. The very maj- 
esty and magnificence of the view make one 
forget the vaporings of mere man, and the Glory 
of God, so overpoweringly revealed in those re- 
gions of perpetual snow, drives other impressions 
away. And if one wishes to be alone, it is easily 

114 



ALPINE RESORTS 



possible by walking a little further along the 
ridge where some rock will shut out all sight of 
man and the wind will drive away the sound of 
voices. 

It is doubtful if there is any view comparable 
with that of the Gorner-Grat. There is what is 
called a "near view," and there is also what is. 
known as a "distant view," for completely sur- 
rounded by snow peak and glacier, the eye passes 
from valley to summit, resting on that wonderful 
stretch of shining white which forms the sky- 
line. To say that one can count dozens of glaciers, 
that he can see fifty summits, that Monte Rosa, 
the Lyskamm, the Twins, the Breithorn, the Matter- 
horn, the Dent Blanche, the Weisshorn, with many 
other mountains of the Valais and Oberland form 
a complete circle of snow peaks, may establish 
the geography of the place but it does not convey 
any but the faintest picture of the sublime grandeur 
of the scene. . . . 

An exciting experience for novices is to go with 
a guide from the Gorner-Grat to the Hohtaligrat 
and thence down to the Findelen Glacier. It 
looks dangerous but it is not really so, if the 
climber is careful, for altho there is a sheer descent 
on either side of the arete or ridge which leads 
from the one point to the other, the way is never 
narrow and only over easy rocks and snow. 

The Hohtaligrat is almost 11,000 feet in alti- 
tude and has a splendid survey of the sky line 
One looks up at snow, one looks down at snow, 
one looks around at snow! From the beautiful 
summits of Monte Rosa, the eye passes in a com- 
plete circle, up and down, seeing in succession the 
white snow peaks, with their great glistening gla- 



115 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ciers below, showing in strong contrast the occa- 
sional rock pyramids like the Matterhorn and the 
group around the Rothhorn. 



THROUGH THE ST. GOTHARD INTO 
ITALY* 

BY VICTOE TISSOT 

This is Geschenen, at the entrance of the great 
tunnel, the meeting place of the upper gorges of 
the Reuss, the valley of Urseren, of the Oberalp, 
and of the Furka. Geschenen has now the calm 
tranquility of old age. But during the nine years 
that it took to bore the great tunnel, what juvenile 
activity there was here, what feverish eagerness 
in this village, crowded, inundated, overflowed by 
workmen from Italy, from Tessin, from Germany 
and France! One would have thought that out 
of that dark hole, dug out in the mountain, they 
were bringing nuggets of gold. 

On all the roads nothing was to be seen but 
bands of workmen arriving, with miners' lamps 
hung to their old soldier's knapsacks. Nobody 
could tell how they were all to be lodged. One 
double bed was occupied in succession by twenty- 
four men in twenty-four hours. Some of the 
workmen set up their establishments in barns; 
in all directions movable canteens sprung up, 
built all awry and hardly holding together, and in 
mean sheds, doubtful, bad-looking places, the dis- 

*From "Unknown Switzerland." Published by James 
Pott & Co. 

116 



ALPINE RESORTS 



honest merchant hastened to sell his adulterated 
brandy. . . . 

The St. Gothard tunnel is about one and two- 
third miles longer than that of Mount Cenis, and 
more than three miles longer than that of Arlberg. 
While the train is passing with a dull rumbling 
sound under these gloomy vaults, let us explain 
how the great work of boring the Alps was ac- 
complished. 

The mechanical work of perforation was begun 
simultaneously on the north and south sides of the 
mountain, working toward the same point, so as 
to meet toward the middle of the boring. The 
waters of the Reuss and the Tessin supplied the 
necessary motive power for working the screws 
attached to machinery for compressing the air. 
The borers applied to the rock the piston of 
a cylinder made to rotate with great rapidity by 
the pressure of air reduced to one-twentieth of its 
ordinary volume; then when they had made holes 
sufficiently deep, they withdrew the machines and 
charged the mines w^ith dynamite. Immediately 
after the explosion, streams of wholesome air 
were liberated which dissipated the smoke; then 
the debris was cleared away, and the borers re- 
turned to their place. The same work was thus 
carried on day and night, for nine years. 

On the Geschenen side all went well; but on the 
Dther side, on the Italian slope, unforseen ob- 
stacles and difficulties had to be overcome. In- 
stead of having to encounter the solid rock, they 
found themselves among a moving soil formed by 
the deposit of glaciers and broken by streams of 
water. Springs burst out, like the jet of a foun- 
tain, under the stroke of the pick, flooding and 



117 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

driving away the workmen. For twelve months 
they seemed to be in the midst of a lake. But 
nothing could damp the ardor of the contractor, 
Pavre. 

His troubles were greater still when the under- 
taking had almost been suspended for want of 
money, when the workmen struck in 1875, and, 
when, two years later, the village of Arola was 
destroyed by fire. And how many times, again 
and again, the mason-work of the vaulted roof 
gave way and fell ! Certain "bad places," as they 
were called, cost more than nine hundred pounds 
per yard. 

In the interior of the mountain the thermometer 
marked 86 degrees (Fahr.), but so long as the 
tunnel was still not completely bored, the workmen 
w^ere sustained by a kind of fever, and made re- 
doubled efforts. Discouragement and desertion 
did not appear among them till the goal was almost 
reached. 

The great tunnel passed, we find ourselves fairly 
in Italy. The mulberry trees, with silky white 
bark and delicate, transparent leaves; the chest- 
nuts, with enormous trunks like cathedral columns ; 
the vine, hanging to high trellises supported by 
granite pillars, its festoons as capricious as the 
feats of those who partake too freely of its 
fruits; the white tufty heads of the maize tossing 
in the breeze; all that strong and luxuriant vege- 
tation through which waves of moist air are pass- 
ing; those flowers of rare beauty, of a grace and 
brilliancy that belong only to privileged zones; — 
all this indicates a more robust and fertile soil, 
and a more fervid sky than those of the upper 
villages which we have just left. 

118 



X 
ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 



FIRST ATTEMPTS HALF A CENTURY 
AGO* 

BY EDWARD WHYMPER 

On the 23d of July, 1860, I started for my 
first tour of the Alps, At Zermatt I wandered 
in many directions, but the weather was bad and 
my work was much retarded. One day, after 
spending a long time in attempts to sketch near 
the Hornli, and in futile endeavors to seize the 
forms of the peaks as they for a few seconds 
peered out from above the dense banks of woolly 
clouds, I determined not to return to Zermatt by 
the usual path, but to cross the Gorner glacier to 
the Riffel hotel. After a rapid scramble over the 
polished rocks and snow-beds which skirt the base 
of the Theodule glacier, and wading through some 
of the streams which flow from it, at that time 
much swollen by the late rains, the first difficulty 
was arrived at, in the shape of a precipice about 
three hundred feet high. It seemed that there 
would be no difficulty in crossing the glacier if 
the cliff could be descended, but higher up and 

*From "Scrambles Among-st the Alps." Mr. Whym- 
per's later achievements in the Alps are now integral 
parts of the written history of notable mountain climb- 
ing feats the world over. 

119 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

lower down the ice appeared, to my inexperienced 
eyes, to be impassable for a single person. 

The general contour of the cliff was nearly 
perpendicular, but it was a good deal broken up, 
-and there was little difficulty in descending by 
zigzagging from one mass to another. At length 
there was a long slab, nearly smooth, fixt at an 
angle of about forty degrees between two wall- 
sided pieces of rock; nothing, except the glacier, 
<3ould be seen below. It was a very awkward place, 
but being doubtful if return were possible, as I 
had been dropping from one ledge to another, I 
passed at length by lying across the slab, putting 
the shoulder stiffly against one side and the feet 
against the other, and gradually wriggling down, 
by first moving the legs and then the back. When 
the bottom of the slab was gained a friendly 
crack was seen, into which the point of the baton 
could be stuck, and I dropt down to the next 
piece. 

It took a long time coming down that little bit 
of cliff, and for a few seconds it was satisfactory 
to see the ice close at hand. In another moment 
a second difficulty presented itself. The glacier 
swept round an angle of the cliff, and as the 
ice was not of the nature of treacle or thin putty, 
it kept away from the little bay on the edge of 
which I stood. We were not widely separated, 
but the edge of the ice was higher than the op- 
posite edge of rock ; and worse, the rock was cover- 
ed with loose earth and stones which had falleu 
from above. All along the side of the cliff, a? 
far as could be seen in both directions, the ice di(f- 
mot touch it, but there was this marginal crevasse 
seven feet wide and of unknown depth. 

120 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

All this was seen at a glance, and almost at once 
I concluded that I could not jump the crevasse, 
and began to try along the cliff lower down, but 
without success, for the ice rose higher and higher, 
until at last farther progress was stopt by the 
cliffs becoming perfectly smooth. With an ax it 
would have been possible to cut up the side of 
the ice — without one, I saw there was no alterna- 
tive but to return and face the jump. 

It was getting toward evening, and the solemn 
stillness of the High Alps was broken only by the 
sound of rushing water or of falling rocks. If 
the jump should be successful, well; if not, I fell 
into the horrible chasm, to be frozen in, or drowned 
in that gurgling, rushing water. Everything 
depended on that jump. Again I asked myself, 
"Can it be done?" It must be. So, finding my 
stick was useless, I threw it and the sketch-book to 
the ice, and first retreating as far as possible, ran 
forward with all my might, took the leap, barely 
reached the other side, and fell awkwardly on 
my knees. At the same moment a shower of 
stones fell on the spot from which I had jumped. 

The glacier was crossed without further trouble, 
but the Riffel, which was then a very small build- 
ing, was crammed with tourists, and could not 
take me in. As the way down was unknown to 
me, some of the people obligingly suggested getting 
a man at the chalets, otherwise the path would be 
certainly lost in the forest. On arriving at the 
chalets no man could be found, and the lights of 
Zermatt, shining through the trees, seemed to say, 
"Never mind a guide, but come along down; we'll 
show you the way"; so off I went through the 
forest, going straight toward them. 

121 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

The path was lost in a moment, and was never 
recovered. I was tript up by pine roots, I tumbled 
over rhododendron bushes, I fell over rocks. The 
night was pitch-dark, and after a time the lights 
of Zermatt became obscure or went out altogether. 
By a series of slides or falls, or evolutions more 
or less disagreeable, the descent through the for- 
est was at length accomplished, but torrents of a 
formidable character had still to be passed before 
one could arrive at Zermatt. I felt my way about 
for hours, almost hopelessly, by an exhaustive proc- 
ess at last discovering a bridge, and about mid- 
night, covered with dirt and scratches, reentered 
the inn which I had quitted in the morning. . . . 

I descended the valley, diverging from the path 
at Randa to mount the slopes of the Dom (the 
highest of the Mischabelhorner), in order to see 
the Weisshorn face to face. The latter mountain 
is the noblest in Switzerland, and from this di- 
rection it looks especially magnificent. On its 
north there is a large snowy plateau that feeds 
the glacier of which a portion is seen from Randa, 
and which on more than one occasion has destroyed 
that village. From the direction of the Dom — 
that is, immediately opposite — this Bies glacier 
seems to descend nearly vertically; it does not do 
so, altho it is very steep. Its size is much less 
than formerly and the lower portion, now divided 
into three tails, clings in a strange, weird-like man- 
ner to the cliffs, to which it seems scarcely possible 
that it can remain attached. 

Unwillingly I parted from the sight of this 
glorious mountain, and went down to Visp. Ar- 
riving once more in the Rhone valley, I proceeded 
to Viesch, and from thence ascended the ^ggisch- 

122 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

horn, on which unpleasant eminence I lost my way 
in a fog, and my temper shortly afterward. Then, 
after crossing the Grimsel in a severe thunder- 
storm, I passed on to Brienz, Interlachen and 
Berne, and thence to Fribourg and Morat, Neu- 
chatel, Martigny and the St. Bernard. The massive 
walls of the convent were a welcome sight as I 
waded through the snow-beds near the summit of 
the pass, and pleasant also was the courteous salu- 
tation of the brother who bade me enter. 

Instead of descending to Aosta, I turned into 
the Val Pelline, in order to obtain views of the 
Dent d'Erin. The night had come on before 
Biona was gained, and I had to knock long and 
loud upon the door of the cure's house before it 
was opened. An old woman with querulous voice 
and with a large goitre answered the summons, and 
demanded rather sharply what was wanted, but 
became pacific, almost good-natured, when a five- 
franc piece was held in her face and she heard 
that lodging and supper were required in exchange. 

My directions asserted that a passage existed 
from' Prerayen, at the head of this valley, to 
Breuil, in the Val Tournanche, and the old woman, 
now convinced of my respectability, busied her- 
self to find a guide. Presently she introduced a 
native picturesquely attired in high-peaked hat, 
braided jacket, scarlet waistcoat and indigo pan- 
taloons, who agreed to take me to the village of 
Val Tournanche. We set off early on the next 
morning, and got to the summit of the pass with- 
out difficulty. It gave me my first experience of 
considerable slopes of hard, steep snow, and, like 
all beginners, I endeavored to prop myself up 
with my stick, and kept it outside, instead of hold- 

123 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ing it between myself and the slope, and leaning 
upon it, as should have been done. 

The man enlightened me, but he had, properly, 
a very small opinion of his employer, and it is 
probably on that account that, a few minutes after 
we had passed the summit, he said he would not 
go any farther and would return to Biona. All 
argument was useless; he stood still, and to every- 
thing that was said answered nothing but that he 
would go back. Being* rather nervous about des- 
cending some long snow-slopes which still inter- 
vened between us and the head of the valley, I 
offered more pay, and he went on a little way. 
Presently there were some cliffs, down which we 
had to scramble. He called to me to stop, then 
shouted that he would go back, and beckoned to 
me to come up. 

On the contrary, I waited for him to come down, 
but instead of doing so, in a second or two he turn- 
ed round, clambered deliberately up the cliff and 
vanished. I supposed it was only a ruse to extort 
offers of more money, and waited for half an hour, 
but he did not appear again. This was rather em- 
barrassing, for he carried off my knapsack. The 
choice of action lay between chasing him and go- 
ing on to Breuil, risking the loss of my knapsack. 
I chose the latter course, and got to Breuil the 
same evening. The landlord of the inn, sus- 
picious of a person entirely innocent of luggage, 
was doubtful if he could admit me, and eventually 
thrust me into a kind of loft, which was already 
occupied by guides and by hay. In later years 
we became good friends, and he did not hesitate 
to give credit and even to advance considerable 
sums. 

124 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

My sketches from Breuil were made under dif- 
ficulties; my materials had been carried off, noth- 
ing better than fine sugar-paper could be obtained, 
and the pencils seemed to contain more silica than 
plumbago. However, they were made, and the 
pass was again crossed, this time alone. By the 
following evening the old woman of Biona again 
produced the faithless guide. The knapsack was 
recovered after the lapse of several hours, and then 
I poured forth all the terms of abuse and re- 
proach of which I was master. The man smiled 
when I called him a liar, and shrugged his shoul- 
ders when referred to as a thief, but drew his 
knife when spoken of as a pig. 

The following night was spent at Cormayeur, 
and the day after I crossed the Col Ferrex to 
Orsieres, and on the next the Tete Noir to Cham- 
ounix. The Emperor Napoleon arrived the same 
day, and access to the Mer de Glace was refused 
to tourists; but, by scrambling along the Plan des 
Aiguilles, I managed to outwit the guards, and to 
arrive at the Montanvert as the imperial party 
was leaving, failing to get to the Jardin the same 
afternoon, but very nearly succeeding in breaking 
a leg by dislodging great rocks on the moraine of 
the glacier. 

From Chamounix I went to Geneva, and thence 
by the Mont Cenis to Turin and to the Vaudois 
valleys. A long and weary day had ended when 
Paesana was reached. The next morning I passed 
the little lakes which are the sources of the Po, 
on my way into France. The weather was stormy, 
and misinterpreting the dialect of some natives — 
who in reality pointed out the right way — I 
missed the track, and found myself under the 

125 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

cliffs of Monte Viso. A gap that was occasionally 
seen in the ridge connecting it with the mountains 
to the east tempted me up, and after a battle with 
a snow-slope of excessive steepness, I reached the 
summit. The scene was extraordinary, and, in 
my experience, unique. To the north there was 
not a particle of mist, and the violent wind coming 
from that direction blew one back staggering. But 
on the side of Italy the valleys were completely 
filled with dense masses of cloud to a certain level; 
and here — ^where they felt the influence of the 
wind — they were cut off as level as the top of a 
table, the ridges appearing above them. 

I raced down to Abries, and went on through 
the gorge of the Guil to Mont Dauphin. The 
next day found me at La Bessee, at the junction 
of the Val Louise with the valley of the Durance, 
in full view of Mont Pelvoux. The same night I 
slept at Brian Qon, intending to take the courier 
on the following day to Grenoble, but all places 
had been secured several days beforehand, so I 
set out at two p.m. on the next day for a seventy- 
mile walk. The weather was again bad, and on 
the summit of the Col de Lautaret I was forced to 
seek shelter in the wretched little hospice. It was 
filled with workmen who were employed on the 
road, and with noxious vapors which proceeded 
from them. The inclemency of the weather was 
preferable to the inhospitality of the interior. 

Outside, it was disagreeable, but grand — in- 
side, it was disagreeable and mean. The walk was 
continued under a deluge of rain, and I felt the 
way down, so intense was the darkness, to the 
village of La Grave, where the people of the inn 
detained me forcibly. It was perhaps fortunate 

126 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

that they did so, for during that night blocks of 
rock fell at several places from the cliffs on to 
the road with such force that they made large holes 
in the macadam, which looked as if there had been 
explosions of gunpowder. I resumed the walk 
at half -past five next morning, and proceeded, un- 
der steady rain, through Bourg d'Oysans to Gren- 
oble, arriving at the latter place soon after seven 
p.M.^ having accomplished the entire distance 
from Briangon in about eighteen hours of actual 
walking. 

This was the end of the Alpine portion of 
my tour of 1860, on which I was introduced to 
the great peaks, and acquired the passion for 
mountain-scrambling. 



FIRST TO THE TOP OF THE MATTER- 
HORN* 

BY EDWARD WHYMPER 

We started from Zermatt on the 13th of July 
at half-past five, on a brilliant and perfectly 
cloudless morning. We were eight in number — 
Croz, old Peter and his two sons. Lord Francis 
Douglas, Hadow, Hudson and I. To ensure steady 
motion, one tourist and one native walked to- 
gether. The youngest Taugwalder fell to my share, 
and the lad marched well, proud to be on the ex- 
pedition and happy to show his powers. The 

*From "Scrambles Amongst the Alps." Mr. Whym- 
per's ascent of the Matterhorn was made in 1865. It 
was the first ascent ever made so far as known. 
Whymper died at Chamouni in 1911, 

127 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

wine-bags also fell to my lot to carry, and through- 
out the day, after each drink, I replenished them 
secretly with water, so that at the next halt they 
were found fuller than before ! This was con- 
sidered a good omen, and little short of miraculous. 

On the first day we did not intend to ascend to 
any great height, and we mounted, accordingly, 
very leisurely, picked up the things which were 
left in the chapel at the Schwarzsee at 8:20, and 
proceeded thence along the ridge connecting the 
Hornli with the Matterhorn. At half -past eleven 
we arrived at the base of the actual peak, then 
quitted the ridge and clambered round some ledges 
on to the eastern face. We were now fairly upon 
the mountain, and were astonished to find that 
places which from the Riffel, or even from the 
Furggengletscher, looked entirely impracticable, 
were so easy that we could run about. 

Before twelve o'clock we had found a good po- 
sition for the tent, at a height of eleven thousand 
feet. Croz and young Peter went on to see what 
was above, in order to save time on the following 
morning. They cut across the heads of the snow- 
slopes which descended toward the Furggen- 
gletscher, and disappeared round a comer, but 
shortly afterward we saw them high up on the face, 
moving quickly. We others made a solid plat- 
form for the tent in a well-protected spot, and then 
watched eagerly for the return of the men. The 
stones which they upset told that they were very 
high, and we supposed that the way must be easy. 
At length, just before 3 p.m., we saw them coming 
down, evidently much excited. "What are they 
saying, Peter?" "Gentlemen, they say it is no 
good." But when they came near we heard a 

128 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

different story: "Nothing but what was good — 
not a difficulty, not a single difficulty! We could 
have gone to the summit and returned to-day 
easily !" 

We passed the remaining hours of daylight — 
some basking in the sunshine, some sketching or 
collecting — and when the sun went down, giving, 
as it departed, a glorious promise for the morrow, 
we returned to the tent to arrange for the night. 
Hudson made tea, I coffee, and we then retired 
each one to his blanket-bag, the Taug-walders, 
Lord Francis Douglas and myself occupying the 
tent, the others remaining, by preference, outside. 
Long after dusk the cliffs above echoed with our 
laughter and with the songs of the guides, for we 
were happy that night in camp, and feared no 
evil. 

We assembled together outside the tent before 
dawn on the morning of the 14th, and started 
directly it was light enough to move. Young Peter 
came on with us as a guide, and his brother re- 
turned to Zermatt. We followed the route which 
had been taken on the previous day, and in a few 
minutes turned the rib which had intercepted the 
view of the eastern face from our tent platform. 
The whole of this great slope was now revealed, 
rising for three thousand feet like a huge natural 
staircase. Some parts were more and others were 
less easy, but we were not once brought to a halt 
by any serious impediment, for when an obstruc- 
tion was met in front it could always be turned to 
the right or to the left. 

For the greater part of the way there was indeed 
no occasion for the rope, and sometimes Hudson 
led, sometimes myself. At 6:20 we bad attained 

VI— 9 129 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

a height of twelve thousand eight hundred feet, 
and halted for half an hour; we then continued 
the ascent without a break until 9:55, when we 
stopt for fifty minutes at a height of fourteen 
thousand feet. Twice we struck the northeastern 
ridge, and followed it for some little distance — to 
no advantage, for it was usually more rotten and 
steep, and always more difficult, than the face. 
Still, we kept near to it, lest stones perchance 
might fall. 

We had now arrived at the foot of that part 
which, from the Riffelberg or from Zermatt, 
seems perpendicular or overhanging, and could 
no longer continue upon the eastern side. For 
a little distance we ascended by snow upon the 
arete — that is, the ridge — descending toward Zer- 
matt, and then by common consent turned over 
to the right, or to the northern side. Before do- 
ing so we made a change in the order of ascent. 
Croz went first, I followed, Hudson came third; 
Hadow and old Peter were last. "Now," said 
Croz as he led off — "now for something alto- 
gether different." The work became difficult, and 
required caution. In some places there was little 
to hold, and it was desirable that those should be 
in front who were least likely to slip. The general 
slope of the mountain at this part was less than 
forty degrees, and snow had accumulated in, and 
had filled up, the interstices of the rock-face, leav- 
ing only occasional fragments projecting here 
and there. These were at times covered with a 
thin film of ice, produced from the melting and 
3?efreezing of the snow. 

It was the counterpart, on a small scale, of the 
upper seven hundred feet of the Pointe des Ecrins ; 

130 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

only there was this material difference — the face 
of the Ecrins was about, or exceeded, an angle of 
fifty degrees, and the Matterhorn face was less 
than forty degrees. It was a place over which any 
fair mountaineers might pass in safety, and Mr. 
Hudson ascended this part, and, as far as I know, 
the entire mountain, without having the slightest 
assistance rendered to him upon any occasion. 
Sometimes, after I had taken a hand from Croz 
or received a pull, I turned to offer the same to 
Hudson, but he invariably declined, saying it 
was not necessary. Mr. Hadow, however, was not 
accustomed to this kind of work, and required con- 
tinual assistance. It is only fair to say that the 
difficulty which he found at this part arose simply 
and entirely from want of experience. 

This solitary difficult part was of no great ex- 
tent. We bore away over it at first nearly hori- 
zontally, for a distance of about four hundred 
feet, then ascended directly toward the summit 
for about sixty feet, and then doubled back to 
the ridge which descends toward Zermatt. A long 
stride round a rather awkward corner brought us 
to snow once more. The last doubt vanished! The 
Matterhorn was ours! Nothing but two hundred 
feet of easy snow remained to be surmounted ! . . . 

The summit of the Matterhorn was formed of a 
rudely level ridge^ about three hundred and fifty 
feet long. The day was one of those superlatively 
calm and clear ones which usually precede bad 
weather. The atmosphere was perfectly still and 
free from clouds or vapors. Mountains fifty — 
nay, a hundred — miles off looked sharp and near. 
All their details — ridge and crag, snow and gla- 
cier — stood out with faultless definition. Pleasant 

131 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

thoiiglits of happy days in bygone years came up 
unbidden as we recognized the old, familiar forms. 
All were revealed — not one of the principal peaks 
of the Alps was hidden. I see them clearly now 
—the great inner circles of giants, backed by the 
ranges, chains and ''massifs." First came the Dent 
Blanche, hoary and grand; the Gabelhorn and 
pointed Rothborn, and then the peerless Weiss- 
horn; the towering Mischabelhorner flanked by 
the Allaleinhorn, Strahlhorn and Rimpfischhorn ; 
then Monte Rosa — ^with its many Spitzen — the 
Lyskamm and the Breithorn. Behind were the 
Bernese Oberland, governed by the Finsteraar- 
horn, the Simplon and St. Gothard groups, the 
Disgrazia and the Orteler. Toward the south we 
looked down to Chivasso on the plain of Piedmont, 
and far beyond. The Viso — one hundred miles 
away — seemed close upon us; the Maritime Alps 
— one hundred and thirty miles distant — ^were free 
from haze. 

Then came into view my first love — the Pel- 
voux; the Eerins and the Meije; the clusters of 
the Graians; and lastly, in the west, gorgeous 
in the full sunlight, rose the monarch of all — Mont 
Blanc. Ten thousand feet beneath us were the 
green fields of Zermatt, dotted with chalets, from 
which blue smoke rose lazily. Eight thousand feet 
below, on the other side, were the pastures of 
Breuil. There were forests black and gloomy, and 
meadows bright and lively; bounding waterfalls 
and tranquil lakes ; fertile lands and savage wastes ; 
sunny plains and frigid plateaux. There were the 
most rugged forms and the most graceful outlines 
— bold, perpendicular cliffs and gentle, undulating 
slopes; rocky mountains and snowy mountains, 

132 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

somber and solemn or glittering and white, with 
walls, turrets, pinnacles, pyramids, domes, cones 
and spires ! There was every combination that the 
world can give, and every contrast that the heart 
could desire. We remained on the summit for one 
hour — 

One crowded hour of glorious life. 



THE LORD FRANCIS DOUGLAS TRAGEDY* 

BY EDWARD WHYMPER 

We began to prepare for the descent. Hud- 
son and I again consulted as to the best and 
safest arrangement of the party. We agreed that 
it would be best for Croz to go first, and Hadow 
second; Hudson, who was almost equal to a guide 
in sureness of foot, wished to be third ; Lord Fran- 
cis Douglas was placed next, and old Peter, the 
strongest of the remainder, after him. I suggested to 
Hudson that we should attach a rope to the rocks 
on our arrival at the difficult bit, and hold it as 
we descended, as an additional protection. He 
approved the idea, but it was not definitely set- 
tled that it should be done. The party was being 
arranged in the above order while I was sketch- 
ing the summit, and they had finished, and were 
waiting for me to be tied in line, when some one 

*From "Scrambles Amongst the Alps." The loss of 
Douglas and three other men, as here described, oc- 
curred during the descent of the Matterhorn following 
the ascent described by Mr. Whymper in the preceding 
article. 

133 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

remembered that our names had not been left in 
a bottle. They requested me to write them down, 
and moved off while it was being done. 

A few minutes afterward I tied myself to young 
Peter, ran down after the others, and caught them 
just as they were commencing the descent of the 
difficult part. Great care was being taken. Only 
one man was moving at a time; when he was 
firmly planted, the next advanced, and so on. 
They had not, however, attached the additional rope 
to rocks, and nothing was said about it. The sug- 
gestion was not made for my own sake, and I am 
not sure that it even occurred to me again. For 
some little distance we followed the others, de- 
tached from them, and should have continued so 
had not Lord Francis Douglas asked me, about 3 
P.M.^ to tie on to old Peter, as he feared, he said, 
that Taugwalder would not be able to hold his 
ground if a slip occurred. 

A few minutes later a sharp-eyed lad ran into 
the Monte Rosa hotel to Seller,* saying that he 
had seen an avalanche fall from the summit of the 
Matterhorn on to the Matterhorngletseher. The 
boy was reproved for telling such idle stories ; he 
was right, nevertheless, and this was what he saw. 

Michael Croz had laid aside his ax, and in order 
to give Mr. Hadow greater security was abso- 
lutely taking hold of his legs and putting his feet, 
one by one, into their proper positions. As far 
as I know, no one was actually descending. I 
can not speak with certainty, because the two lead- 
ing men were partially hidden from my sight by 

*That is, down in the village of Zermatt. Seller was 
a well-known innkeeper of that time. Other Sailers 
still keep inns at Zermatt. 

134 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

an intervening mass of rock, but it is my belief, 
from the movements of their shoulders, that Croz, 
having done as I have said, was in the act of turn- 
ing round to go down a step or two himself; at 
the moment Mr. Hadow slipt, fell against him 
and knocked him over. 

I heard one startled exclamation from Croz, 
then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying downward; 
in another moment Hudson was dragged from his 
steps, and Lord Francis Douglas immediately 
after him. All this was the work of a moment. 
Immediately we heard Crozes exclamation, old 
Peter and I planted ourselves as firmly as the rocks 
would permit; the rope was taut between us, and 
the jerk came on us both as one man. We held, but 
the rope broke midway between Taugwalder and 
Lord Francis Douglas. For a few seconds we saw 
our unfortunate companions sliding downward on 
their backs, and spreading out their hands, en- 
deavoring to save themselves. They passed from 
our sight uninjured, disappeared one by one, and 
fell from precipice to precipice on to the Matter- 
horngletscher below, a distance of nearly four 
thousand feet in height. From the moment the 
rope broke it was impossible to help them. 

So perished our comrades! For the space of 
half an hour we remained on the spot without 
moving a single step. The two men, paralyzed 
by terror, cried like infants, and trembled in such 
a manner as to threaten us with the fate of the 
others. Old Peter rent the air with exclamations 
of "Chamounix! — oh, what will Chamounix say?" 
He meant, Who would believe that Croz could fall? 
The young man did nothing but scream or sob, 
"We are lost! we are lost!" Fixt between the 

135 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

two, I could move neither up nor down. I begged 
young Peter to descend, but he dared not. Un- 
less he did, we could not advance. Old Peter be- 
came alive to the danger, and swelled the cry, 
"We are lost! we are lost!" 

The father's fear was natural — he trembled for 
his son; the young man's fear was cowardly — he 
thought of self alone. At last old Peter summoned 
up courage, and changed his position to a rock 
to which he could fix the rope ; the young man then 
descended, and we all stood together. Immedi- 
ately we did so, I asked for the rope which had 
given way, and found, to my surprise — indeed, 
to my horror — that it was the weakest of the 
three ropes. It was not brought, and should not 
have been employed, for the purpose for which 
it was used. It was old rope, and, compared with 
the others, was feeble. It was intended as a re- 
serve, in case we had to leave much rope behind 
attached to rocks. I saw at once that a serious 
question was involved, and made them give me 
the end. It had broken in mid-air, and it did not 
appear to have sustained previous injury. 

For more than two hours afterward I thought 
almost every moment that the next would be my 
last, for the Taugwalders, utterly unnerved, were 
not only incapable of giving assistance, but 
were in such a state that a slip might have been 
expected from them at any moment. After a 
time we were able to do that which should have 
been done at first, and flx!t rope to firm rocks, 
in addition to being tied together. These ropes 
were cut from time to time, and were left be- 
hind. Even with their assurance the men were 
afraid to proceed, and several times old Peter 

136 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

turned with ashy face and faltering limbs, and 
said with terrible emphasis, "I can not!" 

About 6 P.M. we arrived at the snow upon the 
ridge descending toward Zermatt, and all peril 
was over. We frequently looked, but in vain, for 
traces of our unfortunate companions; we bent 
over the ridge and cried to them, but no sound 
returned. Convinced at last that they were with- 
in neither sight nor hearing, we ceased from our 
useless efforts, and, too cast down for speech, 
silently gathered up our things, preparatory to 
continuing the descent. 

When lo ! a mighty arch appeared, rising above 
the Lyskamm high into the sky. Pale, colorless 
and noiseless, but perfectly sharp and defined, ex- 
cept where it was lost in the clouds, this unearth- 
ly apparition seemed like a vision from another 
world, and almost appalled we watched with amaze- 
ment the gradual development of two vast crosses, 
one on either side. If the Taugwalders had not 
been the first to perceive it, I should have doubted 
my senses. They thought it had some connection 
with the accident, and I, after a while, that it 
might bear some relations to ourselves. But our 
movements had no effect upon it. The spectral 
forms remained motionless. It was a fearful and 
wonderful sight, unique in my experience, and im- 
pressive beyond description, at such a moment. . . . 

Night fell, and for an hour the descent was con- 
tinued in the darkness. At half-past nine a rest- 
ing-place was found, and upon a wretched slab, 
barely large enough to hold three, we passed six 
miserable hours. At daybreak the descent was 
resumed, and from the Hornli ridge we ran down 
to the chalets of Buhl and on to Zermatt. Seiler 

137 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

met me at his door, and followed in silence to my 
room: ''What is the matter?" "The Taugwald- 
ers and I have returned." He did not need 
more, and burst into tears, but lost no time in 
lamentations, and set to work to arouse the village. 
Ere long a score of men had started to ascend 
the Hohlicht heights, above Kalbermatt and 
Z'Mutt, which commanded the plateau of the 
Matterhorngletseher. They returned after six 
hours, and reported that they had seen the bodies 
lying motionless on the snow. This was on Sat- 
urday, and they proposed that we should leave on 
Sunday evening, so as to arrive upon the plateau 
at daybreak on Monday. We started at 2 a.m. 
on Sunday, the 16th, and followed the route that 
we had taken on the previous Thursday as far as 
the Hornli. From thence we went down to the 
right of the ridge, and mounted through the "ser- 
acs" of the Matterhorngletseher. By 8 :30 we had 
got to the plateau at the top of the glacier, and 
within sight of the corner in which we knew my 
companions must be. As we saw one weather- 
beaten man after another raise the telescope, turn 
deadly pale and pass it on without a word to the 
next, we knew that all hope was gone. We ap- 
proached. They had fallen below as they had 
fallen above — Croz a little in advance, Hadow near 
him, and Hudson behind, but of Lord Francis 
Douglas we could see nothing. We left them where 
they fell, buried in snow at the base of the grand- 
est cliff of the most majestic mountain of the Alps. 

*The body of Douglas has never been recovered. It 
is believed to lie buried deep in some crevasse in one 
of the great glaciers that emerge from the base of the 
Matterhorn. 

138 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 
AN ASCENT OF MONTE ROSA* 

BY JOHIi TYNDALL 

On Monday, the 9th of August, we reached the 
Riffel, and, by good fortune on the evening of 
the same day, my guide's brother, the well-known 
Ulrich Lauener, also arrived at the hotel on his 
return from Monte Rosa. From him we obtained 
all the information possible respecting the ascent, 
and he kindly agreed to accompany us a little way 
the next morning, to put us on the right track. 
At three a.m. the door of my bedroom opened, 
and Christian Lauener announced to me that the 
weather was sufficiently good to justify an at- 
tempt. The stars were shining overhead; but Ul- 
rich afterward drew our attention to some heavy 
clouds which clung to the mountains on the other 
side of the valley of the Visp ; remarking that the 
weather might continue fair throughout the day, 
but that these clouds were ominous. At four 
o'clock we Y^'ere on our way, by which time a gray 
stratus cloud had drawn itself across the neck of 
the Matterhorn, and soon afterward another of 
the same nature encircled his waist. We proceeded 
past the Riffelhorn to the ridge above the Corner 
Glacier, from which Monte Rosa was visible from 
top to bottom, and where an animated conversa- 
tion in Swiss dialect commenced. 

Ulrich described the slopes, passes, and preci- 
pices, which were to guide us; and Christian de- 

*From "The Glaciers of the Alps." Prof. Tyndall 
made this ascent in 1858. Monte Rosa stands quite 
near the Matterhorn. Each is reached from Zermatt 
by the Gorner-Grat. 

139 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

manded explanations, until he was finally able to 
declare to me that his knowledge was sufficient. 
We then bade Ulrich good-by, and went forward. 
All was clear about Monte Rosa, and the yellow 
morning light shone brightly upon its uppermost 
snows. Beside the Queen of the Alps was the 
huge mass of the Lyskamm, with a saddle stretch- 
ing from the one to the other; next to the Lys- 
kamm came two white, rounded mounds, smooth 
and pure, the Twins Castor and Pollux, and fur- 
ther to the right again the broad, brown flank of 
the Breithorn. Behind us Mont Cervin* gathered 
the clouds more thickly round him, until finally 
his grand obelisk was totally hidden. We went 
along the mountain side for a time, and then de- 
scended to the glacier. 

The surface was hard frozen, and the ice crunch- 
ed loudly under our feet. There was a hollow- 
ness and volume in the sound which require ex- 
planation; and this, I think, is furnished by the 
remarks of Sir John Herschel on those hollow 
sounds at the Solfaterra, near Naples, from which 
travelers have inferred the existence of cavities 
within the mountain. At the place where these 
sounds are heard the earth is friable, and, when 
struck, the concussion is reinforced and lengthened 
by the partial echoes from the surfaces of the 
fragments. The conditions for a similar effect 
exist upon the glacier, for the ice is disintegrated 
to a certain depth, and from the innumerable 
places of rupture little reverberations are sent, 
which give a length and hollowness to the sound 
produced by the crushing of the fragments on 
the surface. 
♦Another name for the Matterhorn. 

140 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

We looked to the sky at intervals, and once a 
meteor slid across it, leaving a train of sparks 
behind. The blue firmament, from which the 
stars shone down so brightly when we rose, was 
more and more invaded by clouds, which advanced 
upon us from our rear, while before us the solemn 
heights of Monte Rosa were bathed in rich yellow 
sunlight. As the day advanced the radiance crept 
down toward the valleys; but still those stealthy 
clouds advanced like a besieging army, taking de- 
liberate possession of the summits, one after an- 
other, while gray skirmishers moved through the 
air above us. The play of light and shadow upon 
Monte Rosa was at times beautiful, bars of gloom 
and zones of glory shifting and alternating from 
top to bottom of the mountain. 

At five o'clock a gray cloud alighted on the 
shoulder of the Lyskamm, which had hitherto been 
warmed by the lovely yellow light. Soon after- 
ward we reached the foot of Monte Rosa, and 
passed from the glacier to a slope of rocks, whose 
rounded forms and furrowed surfaces showed that 
the ice of former ages had moved over them; the 
granite was now coated with lichens, and between 
the bosses where mold could rest were patches of 
tender moss. As we ascended a peal to the right 
announced the descent of an avalanche from the 
Twins; it came heralded by clouds of ice-dust, 
which resembled the sphered masses of condensed 
vapor which issue from a locomotive. 

A gentle snow-slope brought us to the base of 
a precipice of brown rocks, round which we wound ; 
the snow was in excellent order, and the chasms 
were so firmly bridged by the frozen mass that no 
caution was necessary in crossing them. Sur- 

141 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

mounting a weathered cliff to our left, we paused 
upon the summit to look upon the scene around us. 
The snow giiding insensibly from the mountains, 
or discharged in avalanches from the precipices 
which it overhung, filled the higher valleys with 
pure white glaciers, which were rifted and broken 
here and there, exposing chasms and precipices 
from which gleamed the delicate blue of the half- 
formed ice. Sometimes, however, the "neves" 
spread over wide spaces without a rupture or 
wrinkle to break the smoothness of the superficial 
snow. The sky was now, for the most part, over- 
east, but through the residual blue spaces the sun 
at intervals poured light over the rounded bosses 
of the mountain. 

At half-past seven o'clock we reached another 
precipice of rock, to the left of which our route 
lay, and here Lauener proposed to have some re- 
freshment; after which we went on again. The 
clouds spread more and more, leaving at length 
mere specks and iDatches of blue between them. 
Passing some high peaks, formed by the disloca- 
tion of the ice, we came to a place where the "neve" 
was rent by crevasses, on the walls of which the 
stratification, due to successive snowfalls, was 
thrown with great beauty and definition. Between 
two of these fissures our way now lay; the wall 
of one of them was hollowed out longitudinally 
midway down, thus forming a roof above and a 
ledge below, and from roof to ledge stretched a 
railing of cylindrical icicles, as if intended to bolt 
them together. A cloud now for the first time 
touched the summit of Monte Rosa, and sought 
to cling to it, but in a minute it dispersed in shat- 
tered fragments, as if dashed to pieces for its 

142 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

presumption. The mountain remained for a time 
clear and triumphant, but the triumph was short- 
lived; like suitors that will not be repelled, the 
dusky vapors came; repulse after repulse took 
place, and the sunlight gushed down upon the 
heights, but it was manifest that the clouds gained 
ground in the conflict. 

Until about a quarter-past nine o'clock our work 
was mere child's play, a pleasant morning stroll 
along the flanks of the mountain ; but steeper slopes 
now rose above us, which called for more energy, 
and more care in the fixing of the feet. Looked 
at from below, some of these slopes appeared pre- 
cipitous; but we were too well acquainted with 
the effect of fore-shortening to let this daunt us. 
At each step we dug our batons into the deep 
snow. When first driven in, the batons* ''dipt" 
from us, but were brought, as we walked forward, 
to the vertical, and finally beyond it at the other 
side. The snow was thus forced aside, a rubbing 
of the staff against it, and of the snow-particles 
against each other, being the consequence. We had 
thus perpetual rupture and regelation; while the 
little sounds consequent upon rupture reinforced 
by the partial echoes from the surfaces of the 
gTanules, were blended together to a note resem- 
bling the lowing of cows. 

Hitherto I had paused at intervals to make 
notes, or to take an angle; but these operations 
now ceased, not from want of time, but from 
pure dislike; for when the eye has to act the part 
of a sentinel who feels that at any moment the 

*My staff was always the handle of an ax an inch 
or two longer than an ordinary walking-stick. — 
Author's note. 

143 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

enemy may be upon him; when the body must 
be balanced with precision, and legs and arms, 
besides performing actual labor, must be kept in 
readiness for possible contingencies; above all, 
when you feel that your safety depends upon your- 
self alone, and that, if your footing gives way, 
there is no strong arm behind ready to be thrown 
between you and destruction; under such circum- 
stances the relish for writing ceases, and you are 
willing to hand over your impressions to the safe- 
keeping of memory. 

From the vast boss which constitutes the low- 
er portion of Monte Rosa cliffy edges run up- 
ward to the summit. Were the snow removed 
from these we should, I doubt not, see them as 
toothed or serrated crags, justifying the term 
"kamm," or "comb," applied to such edges by the 
Germans. Our way now lay along such a "kamm," 
the cliffs of which had, however, caught the snow, 
and been completely covered hj it, forming an 
edge like the ridge of a house-roof, which sloped 
steeply upward. On the Lyskamm side of the 
edge there was no footing, and if a human body 
fell over here, it would probably pass through a 
vertical space of some thousands of feet, falling 
or rolling, before coming to rest. On the other 
side the snow-slope was less steep, but excessively 
perilous-looking, and intersected by precipices of 
ice. Dense clouds now enveloped us, and made 
our position far uglier than if it had been fairly 
illuminated. The valley below us was one vast caul- 
dron, filled with precipitated vapor, which came 
seething at times up the sides of the mountain. 
Sometimes this fog would clear away, and the 
light would gleam from the dislocated glaciers. 

144 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

My guide continually admonished me to make 
my footing sure, and to fix at each step my staff 
firmly in the consolidated snow. At one place, 
for a short steep ascent, the slope became hard 
ice, and our position a very ticklish one. We 
hewed our steps as we moved upward, but were 
soon glad to deviate from the ice to a position 
scarcely less awkward. The wind had so acted 
upon the snow as to fold it over the edge of the 
kamm, thus causing it to form a kind of cornice, 
which overhung the precipice on the Lyskamm 
side of the mountain. This cornice now bore our 
weight; its snow had become somewhat firm, but 
it was yielding enough to permit the feet to sink 
in it a little way, and thus secure us at least against 
the danger of slipping. Here, also, at each step 
we drove our batons firmly into the snow, avail- 
ing ourselves of whatever help they could render. 

Once, while thus securing my anchorage, the 
handle of my hatchet went right through the cor- 
nice on which we stood, and, on withdrawing it, 
I could see through the aperture into the cloud- 
crammed gulf below. We continued ascending 
until we reached a rock protruding from the snow, 
and here we halted for a few minutes. Lauener 
looked upward through the fog. * 'According to 
all description," he observed, "this ought to be the 
last kamm of the mountain; but in this obscurity 
we can see nothing." Snow began to fall, and 
we recommenced our journey, quitting the rocks 
and climbing again along the edge. Another hour 
brought us to a crest of cliffs, at which, to our com- 
fort, the kamm appeared to cease, and other climb- 
ing qualities were demanded of us. 

On the Lyskamm side, as I have said, rescue 

VI— 10 145 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

would be out of the question, should the climber 
go over the edge. On the otiier side of the edge 
rescue seemed possible, tho the slope, as stated al- 
ready, was most dangerously steep. I now asked 
Lauener what he would have done, supposing my 
footing to have failed on the latter slope. He did 
not seem to like the question, but said that he 
should have considered well for a moment and then 
have sprung after me; but he exhorted me to 
drive all such thoughts away. I laughed at him, 
and this did more to set his mind at rest than 
any formal profession of courage could have done. 
We were now among rocks; we climbed cliffs 
and descended them, and advanced sometimes with 
our feet on narrow ledges, holding tightly on to 
other ledges by our fingers; sometimes, cautiously 
balanced, we moved along edges of rock with preci- 
pices on both sides. Once, in getting round a 
crag, Lauener shook a book from his pocket; it 
was arrested by a rock about sixty or eighty feet 
below us. He wished to regain it, but I offered to 
supply its place, if he thought the descent too 
dangerous. He said he would make the trial, and 
parted from me. I thought it useless to remain 
idle. A cleft was before me, through which I must 
pass; so pressing my knees and back against its 
opposite sides, I gradually worked myself to the 
top. I descended the other face of the rock, 
and then, through a second ragged fissure, to the 
summit of another pinnacle. The highest point 
of the mountain was now at hand, separated from 
me merely by a short saddle, carved by weathering 
out the crest of the mountain. I could hear Lauen- 
er clattering after me, through the rocks behind. 
I dropt down upon the saddle, crossed it, climb- 

146 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

ed the opposite cliff, and ''die hoehste Spitze" of 
Monte Rosa was won. 

Laiiener joined me immediately, and we mutual- 
ly congratulated each other on the success of the 
ascent. The residue of the bread and meat was 
produced, and a bottle of tea was also appealed to. 
Mixed with a little cognac, Lauener declared that 
he had never tasted anything like it. Snow fell 
thickly at intervals, and the obscurity was very 
great; occasionally this would lighten and permit 
the sun to shed a ghastly dilute light upon us 
through the gleaming vapor. I put my boiling- 
water apparatus in order, and fixt it in a corner be- 
hind a ledge; the shelter was, however, insufficient, 
so I placed my hat above the vessel. The boiling- 
point was 184.92 deg. Fahr., the ledge on which 
the instrument stood being five feet below the 
highest point of the mountain. 

The ascent from the Riffel Hotel occupied us 
about seven hours, nearly two of which were spent 
upon the kamm and crest. Neither of us felt 
in the least degree fatigued; I, indeed, felt so 
fresh, that had another Monte Rosa been planted 
on the first, I should have continued the climb 
without hesitation, and with strong hopes of reach- 
ing the top. I experienced no trace of mountain 
sickness, lassitude, shortness of breath, heart-beat, 
or headache; nevertheless the summit of Monte 
Rosa is 15,284 feet high, being less than 500 feet 
lower than Mont Blanc. It is, I think, perfectly 
certain, that the rarefaction of the air at this 
height is not sufficient of itself to produce- the 
symptoms referred to; physical exertion must be 
superadded. 



147 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 



MONT BLANC ASCENDED, HUXLEY 
GOING PART WAY* 

BY JOHN" TYNDALL 

The way for a time was excessively roiigh,t 
our route being overspread with the fragments 
of peaks which had once reared themselves to 
our left, but which frost and lightning had 
shaken to pieces, and poured in granite ava- 
lanches down the mountain. We were some- 
times among huge, angular boulders, and some- 
times amid lighter shingle, which gave way at 
every step, thus forcing us to shift our footing 
incessantly. Escaping from these we crossed the 
succession of secondary glaciers which lie at 
the feet of the Aiguilles, and, having secured 
firewood, found ourselves, after some hours of 
hard work, at the Pierre I'Echelle. Here we 
were furnished with leggings of coarse woolen 
cloth to keep out the snow; they were tied un- 
der the knees and quite tightly again over the 
insteps, so that the legs were effectually pro- 
tected. We had some refreshment, possest our- 
selves of the ladder, and entered upon the gla- 
cier. 

The ice was excessively fissured; we crossed 

*From "The Glaciers of the Alps." 

fThat is, after having ascended the mountain to 
a point some distance beyond the Mer de Glace, to 
which the party had ascended from Chamouni, Hux- 
ley and Tyndall were both engaged in a study of the 
causes of the movement of glaciers, but Tyndall gave 
it most attention. One of Tyndall's feats in the Alps 
was to make the first recorded ascent of the Weisshorn. 
It is said that "traces of his influence remain in Swit- 
zerland to this day." 

148 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

crevasses and crept round slippery ridges, cut- 
ting steps in the ice wherever climbing was nec- 
essary. This rendered our progress very slow. 
Once, with the intention of lending a helping 
hand, I stept forward upon a block of granite 
which happened to be poised like a rocking 
stone upon the ice, tho I did not know it; it 
treacherously turned under me; I fell, but my 
hands were in instant requisition, and I escap- 
ed with a bruise, from which, however, the blood 
oozed angrily. We found the ladder necessary 
in crossing some of the chasms, the iron spikes 
at its end being firmly driven into the ice at 
one side, while the other end rested on the op- 
posite side of the fissure. The middle portion 
of the glacier was not difficult. Mounds of ice 
rose beside us right and left, which were some- 
times split into high towers and gaunt-looking 
pyramids, while the space between was un- 
broken. 

Twenty minutes' walking brought us again to 
a fissured portion of the glacier, and here our 
porter left the ladder on the ice behind him. 
For some time I was not aware of this, but we 
were soon fronted by a chasm to pass which we 
were in consequence compelled to make a long 
and dangerous circuit amid crests of crumbling 
ice. This accomplished, we hoped that no repe- 
tition of the process would occur, but we speed- 
ily came to a second fissure, where it was neces- 
sary to step from a projecting end of ice to a 
mass of soft snow which overhung the opposite 
side. Simond could reach this snow with his 
long-handled ax; he beat it down to give it 
rigidity, but it was ex*ceedingly tender, and as 

149 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

he worked at it he continued to express his 
fears that it would not bear us. I was the 
lightest of the party, and therefore tested the 
passage first; being partially lifted by Simond 
on the end of his ax, I crossed the fissure, ob- 
tained some anchorage at the other side, and 
helped the others over. We afterward ascend- 
ed until another chasm, deeper and wider than 
any we had hitherto encountered, arrested us. 
We walked alongside of it in search of a snow- 
bridge, which we at length found, but the key- 
stone of the arch had, unfortunately, given way, 
leaving projecting eaves of snow at both sides, 
between which we could look into the gulf, till 
the gloom of its deeper portions cut the vision 
short. 

Both sides of the crevasse were sounded, but 
no sure footing was obtained; the snow was 
beaten and carefully trodden down as near to 
the edge as possible, but it finally broke away 
from the foot and fell into the chasm. One of 
our porters was short-legged and a bad iceman; 
the other was a daring fellow, and he now threw 
the knapsack from his shoulders, came to the 
edge of the crevasse, looked into it, but drew 
back again. After a pause he repeated the act, 
testing the snow with his feet and staff. I look- 
ed at the m,an as he stood beside the chasm 
manifestly undecided as to whether he should 
take the step upon which his life would hang, 
and thought it advisable to put a stop to such 
perilous play. I accordingly interposed, the man 
withdrew from the crevasse, and he and Simond 
descended to fetch the ladder. 

While they were away Huxley sat down upon 

150 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

the ice, with an expression of fatigue stamped 
upon his countenance; the spirit and the muscles 
were evidently at war, and the resolute will 
mixed itself strangely with the sense of peril 
and feeling of exhaustion. He had been only 
two days with us, and, tho his strength is 
great, he had had no opportunity of hardening 
himself by previous exercise upon the ice for 
the task which he had undertaken. The ladder 
now arrived, and we crossed the crevasse. I 
was intentionally the last of the party, Hux'ley 
being immediately in front of me. The deter- 
mination of the man disguised his real condition 
from everybody but himself, but I saw that the 
exhausting journey over the boulders and debris 
had been too much for his London limbs. 

Converting my waterproof haversack into a 
cushion, I made him sit down upon it at inter- 
vals, and by thus breaking the steep ascent into 
short stages we reached the cabin of the Grands 
Mulcts together. Here I spread a rug on the 
boards, and, placing my bag for a pillow, he 
lay down, and after an hour's profound sleep 
he rose refreshed and well; but still he thought 
it wise not to attempt the ascent farther. Our 
porters left us; a baton was stretched across 
the room over the stove, and our wet socks and 
leggings were thrown across it to dry; our boots 
were placed around the fire, and we set about 
preparing our evening meal. A pan was placed 
upon the fire, and filled with snow, which in 
due time melted and boiled; I ground some 
chocolate and placed it in the pan, and after- 
ward ladled the beverage into the vessels we 
possest, which consisted of two earthen dishes and 

151 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

the metal cases of our brandy flasks. After supper 
Simond went out to inspect the glacier, and was 
observed by Huxley, as twilight fell, in a state 
of deep contemplation beside a crevasse. 

Gradually the stars appeared, but as yet no 
moon. Before lying down we went out to look 
at the firmament, and noticed, what I supposed 
has been observed to some extent by everybody, 
that the stars near the horizon twinkled busily, 
while those near the zenith shone with a steady 
light. One large star, in particular, excited our 
admiration; it flashed intensely, and changed 
color incessantly, sometimes blushing like a ruby, 
and again gleaming like an emerald. A de- 
terminate color would sometimes remain con- 
stant for a sensible time, but usually the flashes 
followed each other in very quick succession. 

Three planks were now placed across the room 
near the stove, and upon these, with their rugs 
folded round them, Huxley and Hirst stretched 
themselves, while I nestled on the boards at the 
most distant end of the room. We rose at elev- 
en o'clock, renewed the fire and warmed our- 
selves, after which we lay down again. I, at 
length, observed a patch of pale light upon the 
wooden wall of the cabin, which had entered 
through a hole in the end of the edifice, and 
rising found that it was past one o'clock. The 
cloudless moon was shining over the wastes of 
snow, and the scene outside was at once wild, 
grand, and beautiful. 

Breakfast was soon prepared, tho not with- 
out difficulty; we had no candles, they had been 
forgotten; but I fortunately possest a box of 
wax matches, of which Hus^ley took charge, pa- 

152 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

tiently igniting them in succession, and thus 
giving us a tolerably continuous light. We had 
some tea, which had been made at the Montan- 
vert,* and carried to the Grands Mulcts in a bot- 
tle. My memoi*y of that tea is not pleasant; it 
had been left a whole night in contact with its 
leaves, and smacked strongly of tannin. The 
snow-water, moreover, with which we diluted it 
was not pure, but left a black residuum at the 
bottom of the dishes in which the beverage was 
served. The few provisions deemed necessary 
being placed in Simond's knapsack, at twenty 
minutes past two o'clock we scrambled down 
the rocks, leaving Huxley behind us. 

The snow was hardened by the night's frost, 
and we were cheered by the hope of being able 
to accomplish the ascent with comparatively lit- 
tle labor. We were environed by an atmosphere 
of perfect purity; the larger stars hung like 
gems above us, and the moon, about half full, 
shone with wondrous radiance in the dark firma- 
ment. One star in particular, which lay east- 
ward from the moon, suddenly made its ap- 
pearance above one of the Aiguilles, and burn- 
ed there with unspeakable splendor. We turned 
once toward the Mulcts, and saw Huxley's form 
projected against the sky as he stood upon a 
pinnacle of rock; he gave us a last wave of the 
hand and descended, while we receded from 
him into the solitudes. 

The evening previous our guide had examined 
the glacier for some distance, his progress hav- 
ing been arrested by a crevasse. Beside this we 

*A hotel overlooking the Mer de Glace and a head- 
quarters for mountaineers now as then. 

153 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

soon halted: it was spanned at one place by a 
bridge of snow, which was of too light a struc- 
ture to permit of Simond's testing it alone; we 
therefore paused while our guide uncoiled a 
rope and tied us all together. The moment was 
to me a peculiarly solemn one. Our little party 
seemed so lonely and so small amid the silence 
and the vastness of the surrounding scene. We 
were about to try our strength under unknown 
conditions, and as the various possibilities of 
the enterprise crowded on the imagination, a 
sense of responsibility for a moment opprest 
me. But as I looked aloft and saw the glory 
of the heavens, my heart lightened, and I re- 
marked cheerily to Hirst that Nature seemed to 
smile upon our work. **Yes," he replied, in a 
calm and earnest voice, **and, God willing, we 
shall accomplish it." 

A pale light now overspread the eastern sky, 
which increased, as we ascended, to a daffodil 
tinge; this afterward heightened to orange, 
deepening at one extremity into red, and fading 
at the other into a pure, ethereal hue to which 
it would be difficult to assign a special name. 
Higher up the sky was violet, and this chang- 
ed by insensible degrees into the darkling blue 
of the zenith, which had to thank the light of 
moon and stars alone for its existence. We 
wound steadily for a time through valleys of 
ice, climbed white and slippery slopes, crossed a 
number of crevasses, and after some time found 
ourselves beside a chasm of great depth and 
width, which extended right and left as far as 
we could see. We turned to the left, and 
marched along its edge in search of a "pont"; 

154 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

but matters became gradually worse; other cre- 
vasses joined on to the first one, and the fur- 
ther we proceeded the more riven and dislo- 
cated the ice became. 

At length we reached a place where further 
advance was impossible. Simond, in his difficul- 
ty complained of the want of light, and wished 
us to wait for the advancing day; I, on the con- 
trary, thought that we had light enough and 
ought to make use of it. Here the thought oc- 
curred to me that Simond, having been only 
once before to the top of the mountain, might 
not be quite clear about the route; the glacier, 
however, changes within certain limits from year 
to year, so that a general knowledge was all 
that could be expected, and we trusted to our 
own muscles to make good any mistake in the 
way of guidance. 

We now turned and retraced our steps along 
the edges of chasms where the ice was disinte- 
grated and insecure, and succeeded at length in 
finding a bridge which bore us across the cre- 
vasse. This error caused us the loss of an hour, 
and after Avalking for this timie we could cast 
a stone from the point we had attained to the 
place whence we had been compelled to return. 

Our way now lay along the face of a steep in- 
cline of snow, which was cut by the fissure we 
had just passed, in a direction parallel to our 
route. On the heights to our right, loose ice- 
crags seemed to totter, and we passed two 
tracks over which the frozen blocks had rushed 
some short time previously. We were glad to 
get out of the range of these terrible projectiles, 
and still more so to escape the vicinity of that 

155 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHOE^ 

ugly crevasse. To be killed in the open air 
would be a luxury, compared with having the life 
squeezed out of one in the horrible gloom of 
these chasms. The blush of the coming day be- 
came more and more intense; still the sun him- 
self did not appear, being hidden from us by 
the peaks of the Aiguille du Midi, which were 
drawn clear and sharp against the brightening 
sky. Right under this Aiguille were heaps of 
snow smoothly rounded and constituting a por- 
tion of the sources whence the Glacier du Geant 
is fed; these, as the day advanced, bloomed with 
a rosy light. We reached the Petit Plateau, 
which we found covered with the remains of ice 
avalanches; above us upon the crest of the 
mountain rose three mighty bastions, divided from 
each other by deep, vertical rents, with clean 
smooth walls, across which the lines of annual 
bedding were drawn like courses of masonry. 
From these, which incessantly renew themselves, 
and from the loose and broken ice-crags near 
them, the boulders amid which we now thread- 
ed our way had been discharged. When they 
fall their descent must be sublime. 

The snow had been gradually getting deeper, 
and the ascent more wearisome, but superadded 
to this at the Petit Plateau was the uncertainty 
of the footing between the blocks of ice. In 
many places the space was merely covered by a 
thin crust, which, when trod upon, instantly 
yielded and we sank with a shock sometimes to 
the hips. Our way next laj^ up a steep incline 
to the Grand Plateau, the depth and tenderness 
of the snow augmenting as we ascended. We 
had not yet seen the sun, but as we attained the 

156 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

brow which foiins the entrance to the Grand 
Plateau, he hung his disk upon a spike of rock 
to our left, and, surrounded by a glory of inter- 
ference spectra of the most gorgeous colors, 
blazed down upon us. On the Grand Plateau 
v,e halted and had our frugal refreshment. 

At some distance to our left was the crevasse 
into which Dr. Hamel's three guides were precip- 
itated by an avalanche in 1820; they are still 
entombed in the ice, and some future explorer 
may, perhaps, see them disgorged lower down, 
fresh and undecayed. They can hardly reach 
the surface until they pass the snow-line of 
the glacier, for above this line the quantity 
of snow that annually falls being in excess of the 
quantity melted, the tendency would be to make the 
ice-covering above them thicker. But it is al- 
so possible that the waste of the ice under- 
neath may have brought the bodies to the bed of 
the glacier, where their very bones may have been 
ground to mud by an agency which the hardest 
rocks can not withstand. 

As the sun poured his light upon the Plat- 
eau the little snow-facets sparkled brilliantly, 
sometimes with a pure white light, and at 
others with prismatic colors. Contrasted with 
the white spaces above and around us were the 
dark mountains on the opposite side of the val- 
ley of Chamouni, around which fantastic masses 
of cloud were beginning to build themselves. 
Mont Buet, with its cone of snow, looked small, 
and the Brevent altogether mean; the limestone 
bastions of the Fys, however, still presented a 
front of gloom and grandeur. We traversed the 
Grand Plateau, and at length reached the base 

157 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

of an extremely steep incline which stretched 
upward toward the Corridor. Here, as if pro- 
duced by a fault, consequent up»n the sinking 
of the ice in front, rose a vertical precipice, 
from the coping of which vast stalactites of ice 
depended. 

Previous to reaching this place I had noticed 
a haggard ex^pression upon the countenance of 
our guide, which was now intensified by the 
prospect of the ascent before him. Hitherto 
he had always been in front, which was cer- 
tainly the most fatiguing position. I felt that 
I must now take the lead, so I spoke cheerily 
to the man and placed him behind me. Mark- 
ing a number of points upon the slope as rest- 
ing places, I went swiftly from one to the other. 
The surface of the snow had been partially 
melted by the sun and then refrozen, thus form- 
ing a superficial crust, which bore the weight 
up to a certain point, and then suddenly gave 
way, permitting the leg to sink to above the 
knee. The shock consequent on this, and the 
subsequent effort necessary to extricate the leg, 
were extremely fatiguing. My motion was com- 
plained of as too quick, and my tracks as im- 
perfect; I moderated the former, and to render 
my footholes broad and sure, I stamped upon 
the frozen crust, and twisted my legs in the 
soft mass underneath, — a terribly exhausting 
process. I thus led the way to the base of the 
Kochers Rouges, up to which the fault already 
referred to had prolonged itself as a crevasse, 
which was roofed at one place by a most dan- 
gerous-looking snow-bridge. 

Simond came to the front; I drew his atten- 

158 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

tion to the state of the snow, and proposed 
climbing the Rochers Rouges; but, with a 
promptness unusual with him, he replied that 
this was impossible; the bridge was our only 
means of passing, and we must try it. We 
grasped our ropes, and dug our feet firmly into 
the snow to check the man's descent if the 
"pont" gave way, but to our astonishment it 
bore him, and bore us safely after him. The 
slope which we had now to ascend had the snow 
swept from its surface, and was therefore firm 
ice. It was most dangerously steep, and, its 
termination being the fretted coping of the pre- 
cipice to which I have referred, if we slid down- 
ward we should shoot over this and be dashed 
to pieces upon the ice below.* Simond, who had 
come to the front to cross the crevasse, was 
now engaged in cutting steps, which he made 
deep and large, so that they might serve us 
on our return. But the listless strokes of his 
ax proclaimed his exhaustion; so I took the 
implement out of his hands, and changed places 
with him. Step after step was hewn, but the 
top of the Corridor appeared ever to recede 
from us. 

Hirst was behind, unoccupied, and could thus 
turn his thoughts to the peril of our position; 
he ''felt" the angle on which we hung, and saw 
the edge of the precipice, to which less than a 
quarter of a minute's slide would carry us, and 

*Those acquainted with the mountain will at once 
recognize the grave error here committed. In fact, on 
starting from the Grands Mulcts we had crossed the 
glacier too far, and throughout were much too close to 
the Dome du Gout$. — Author's note. 

159 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

for the first time during the journey he grew 
giddy. A eigar which he lighted for the purpose 
tranquilized him. 

I hewed sixty steps upon this slope, and each 
step had cost a minute, by Hirst's watch. The 
Mur de la Cote was still before us, and on this 
the guide-books informed us two or three hun- 
dred steps were sometimes found necessary. If 
sixty steps cost an hour, what would be the 
cost of two hundred? The question was dis- 
heartening in the ex'treme, for the time at which 
we had calculated on reaching the summit was 
already passed, while the chief difficulties re- 
mained unconquered. Having hewn our way 
along the harder ice we reached snow. I again 
resorted to stamping to secure a footing, and 
while thus engaged became, for the first time, 
aware of the drain of force to which I was sub- 
jecting myself. The thought of being absolute- 
ly exhausted had never occurred to me, and 
from first to last I had taken no care to hus- 
band my strength. I always calculated that the 
"will" would serve me even should the muscles 
fail, but I now found that mechanical laws rule 
man in the long run; that no effort of will, no 
power of spirit, can draw beyond a certain lim- 
it upon muscular force. The soul, it is true, can 
stir the body to action, but its function is to 
excite and apply force, and not to create it. 

While stamping forward through the frozen 
crust I was compelled to pause at short inter- 
vals; then would set out again apparently fresh, 
to find, however, in a few minutes, that my 
strength was gone, and that I required to rest 
once more. In this way I gained the summit 

160 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

of the Corridor, when Hirst came to the front, 
and I felt some relief in stepping slowly after 
him, making use of the holes into which his feet 
had sunk. He thus led the way to the base of 
the Mur de la Cote, the thought of which had 
so long east a gloom upon us; here we left our 
rope behind us, and while pausing I asked Si- 
mond whether he did not feel a desire to go to 

the summit. "Surely," was his reply, "but! " 

Our guide's mind was so constituted that the 
"but" seemed essential to its peace. I stretched 
my hands toward him, and said: "Simond, we 
must do it." One thing alone I felt could de- 
feat us: the usual time of the ascent had been 
more than doubled, the day was already far 
spent, and if the ascent would throw our sub- 
sequent descent into night it could not be con- 
templated. 

We now faced the Mur, which was by no 
means so bad as we had expected. Driving the 
iron claws of our boots into the scars made by 
the ax, and the spikes of our batons into the 
slope above our feet, we ascended steadily un- 
til the summit was attained, and the top of 
the mountain rose clearly above us. We con- 
gratulated ourselves upon this; but Simond, 
probably fearing that our joy might become too 
full, remarked: "But the summit is still far 
off!" It was, alas! too true. The snow be- 
came soft again, and our weary limbs sank in 
it as before. Our guide went on in front, audi- 
bly muttering his doubts as to our ability to 
reach the top, and at length he threw himself 
upon the snow, and exclaimed, "I give up!" 

Hirst now undertook the task of rekindling 

VI— 11 161 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

the guide's enthusiasm, after which Simond 
rose, exclaiming: "Oh, but this makes my knees 
ache!" and went forward. Two rocks break 
through the snow between the summit of the 
Mur and the top of the mountain; the first is 
called the Petits Mulets, and the highest the 
Derniers Rochers. At the former of these we 
paused to rest, and finished our scanty store of 
wine and provisions. We had not a bit of 
bread nor a drop of wine left; our brandy flasks 
were also nearly exhausted, and thus we had to 
contemplate the journey to the summit, and the 
subsequent descent to the Grands Mulets, with 
out the slightest prospect of physical refresh- 
ment. The almost total loss of two nights' sleep, 
with two days' toil superadded, made me long 
for a few minutes' doze, so I stretched myself 
upon a composite couch of snow and granite, 
and immediately fell asleep. 

My friend, however, soon aroused me. "You 
quite frighten me," he said; "I have listened 
for some minutes, and have not heard you 
breathe once." I had, in reality, been taking 
deep draughts of the mountain air, but so si- 
lently as not to be heard. 

I now filled our empty wine-bottle with snow 
and placed it in the sunshine, that we might 
have a little water on our return. We then 
rose; it was half -past two o'clock; we had been 
upward of twelve hours climbing, and I calcula- 
ted that, whether we reached the summit or not, 
we could at all events work "toward" it for 
another hour. To the sense of fatigue previous- 
ly experienced, a new phenomenon was now 
added — the beating of the heart. We were in- 

162 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIiMBING 

cessantly pulled up by this, which sometimes 
became so intense as to suggest danger. I count- 
ed the number of paces which we were able to 
accomplish without resting, and found that at 
the end of every twenty, sometimes at the end 
of fifteen, we were compelled to pause. At each 
pause my heart throbbed audibly, as I leaned 
upon my staff, and the subsidence of this action 
was always the signal for further advance. My 
breathing was quick, but light and unimpeded. 

I endeavored to ascertain whether the hip- 
joint, on account of the diminished atmospheric 
pressure, became loosened, so as to throw the 
weight of the leg upon the surrounding liga- 
ments, but could not be certain about it. I al- 
so sought a little aid and encouragement from 
philosophy, endeavoring to remember what great 
things had been done by the accumulation of 
small quantities, and I urged upon myself that 
the present was a case in point, and that the 
summation of distances twenty paces each must 
finally place us at the top. Still the question 
of time left the matter long in doubt, and un- 
til we had passed the Derniers Rochers we 
worked on with the stern indifference of men 
who were doing their duty, and did not look to 
consequences. Here, however, a gleam of hope 
began to brighten our souls: the summit be- 
came visible nearer, Simond showed more alac- 
rity; at length success became certain, and at half- 
past three p.m. my friend and I clasped hands 
upon the top. 

The siunmit of the mountain is an elongated 
ridge, which has been compared to the back of 
an ass. It was perfectly manifest that we were 

163 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

dominant over all other mountains; as far as 
the eye could range Mont Blanc had no com- 
petitor. The summits which had looked down 
upon us in the morning were now far beneath 
us. The Dome du Goute, which had held its 
threatening "seracs" above us so long, was now 
at our feet. The Aiguille du Midi, Mont Blanc 
du Taeul, and the Monts Maudits, the Talefre, 
with its surrounding peaks, the Grand Jorasse, 
Mont Mallet, and the Aiguille du Geant, with 
our own familiar glaciers, were all below us. 
And as our eye ranged over the broad shoulders 
of the mountain, over ice hills and valleys, pla- 
teaux and far-stretching slopes of snow, the con- 
ception of its magnitude grew upon us, and im- 
prest us more and more. 

The clouds were very grand — grander, indeed, 
than anything I had ever before seen. Some of 
them seemed to hold thunder in their breasts, 
they were so dense and dark; others, with their 
faces turned sunward, shone with the dazzling 
whiteness of the mountain snow; while others 
again built themselves into forms resembling gi- 
gantic elm trees, loaded with foliage. Toward 
the horizon the luxury of color added itself to 
the magnificent alternation of light and shade. 
Clear spaces of amber and ethereal green em- 
braced the red and purple cumuli, and seemed 
to form the cradle in which they swung. Closer 
at hand squally mists, suddenly engendered, 
were driven hither and thither by local winds; 
while the clouds at a distance lay *'like angels 
sleeping on the wing," with scarcely visibly mo- 
tion. Mingling with the clouds, and sometimes 
rising above them, were the highest mountain 

164 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

heads, and as our eyes wandered from peak to 
peak, onward to the remote horizon, space itself 
seemed more vast from the manner in which the 
objects which it held were distributed. . . . 

The day was waning, and, urged by the warn- 
ings of our ever-prudent guide, we at length began 
the descent. Gravity was in our favor, but gravity 
could not entirely spare our wearied limbs, and 
where we sank in the snow we found our downward 
progi'ess very trying. I suffered from thirst, but 
after we had divided the liquefied snow at the 
Petits Mulcts among us we had nothing to drink. 
I crammed the clean snow into my mouth, but 
the process of melting was slow and tantalizing 
to a parched throat, while the chill was painful 
to the teeth. 



THE JUNGFRAU-JOCH* 

BY SIR LESLIE STEPHEN" 

I was once more standing upon the Wengern 
Alp, and gazing longingly at the Jungfrau-Joch. 
Surely the Wengern Alp must be precisely the lov- 
liest place in this world. To hurry past it, and 
listen to the roar of the avalanches, is a very un- 
satisfactory mode of enjoyment; it reminds one 
too much of letting off crackers in a cathedral. The 
mountains seem to be accomplices of the people 
who charge fifty centimes for an echo. But it 
does one's moral nature good to linger there at 
sunset or in the early morning, when tourists have 

*From "The Playground of Europe." Published by 
Longmans, Green & Co. 

165 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ceased from traveling; and the jaded cockney may 
enjoy a kind of spiritual bath in the soothing- 
calmness of scenery. . . . 

We, that is a little party of six Englishmen 
with six Oberland guides, who left the inn at 3 
A.M. on July 20, 1862, were not, perhaps, in a 
specially poetical mood. Yet as the sun rose 
while we were climbing the huge buttress of the 
Monch, the dullest of us — I refer, of course, to 
mj^self — felt something of the spirit of the scen- 
ery. The day was cloudless, and a vast inverted 
cone of dazzling rays suddenly struck upward in- 
to the sky through the gap between the Monch 
and the Eiger, which, as some effect of perspec- 
tive shifted its apparent position, looked like a 
glory streaming from the very summit of the 
Eiger. It was a good omen, if not in any more 
remote sense, yet as promising a fine day. After 
a short climb we descended upon the Gugg, 
glacier, most lamentably unpoetical of names, and 
mounted by it to the great plateau which lies be- 
low the cliffs immediately under the col. We 
reached this at about seven, and, after a short 
meal, carefully examined the route above us. Half 
way between us and the col lay a small and ap- 
parently level plateau of snow. Once upon it we 
felt confident that we could get to the top. . . . 

We plunged at once into the maze of crevasses, 
finding our passage much facilitated by the pre- 
vious efforts of our guides. We were constantly 
walking over ground strewed with crumbling 
blocks of ice, the recent fall of which was proved 
by their sharp white fractures, and with a thing 
like an infirm toad stool twenty feet high, tower- 
ing above our heads. Once we passed under a 

166 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

natural arch of ice, built in evident disregard of 
all principles of architectural stability. Hurry- 
ing judiciously at such critical points, and creep- 
ing- slowly round those where the footing was dif- 
ficult, we manage to thread the labyrinth safely, 
whilst Rubi appeared to think it rather pleasant 
than otherwise in such places to have his head 
ilxt in a kind of pillory between two rungs of a 
ladder, with twelve feet of it sticking out behind 
and twelve feet before him. 

We reached the gigantic crevasse at 7.35. We 
passed along it to a point where its two lips near- 
ly joined, and the side furthest from us was con- 
siderably higher than that upon which we stood. 
Fixing the foot of the ladder upon this ledge, we 
swung the top over, and found that it rested sat- 
isfactorily against the opposite bank. Aimer 
crept up it, and made the top firmer by driving his 
a:^ into the snow underneath the highest step. 
The rest of us followed, carefully roped, and with 
the caution to rest our knees on the sides of the 
ladder, as several of the steps were extremely weak 
— a remark which was equally applicable to one, 
at least, of the sides. We crept up the rickety old 
machine, however, looking down between our legs 
into the blue depths of the crevasse, and at 8.15 
the whole party found itself satisfactorily perched 
on the edge of the nearly level snow plateau, look- 
ing up at the long slopes of broken neve that led 
to the col. ... 

When the man behind was also engaged in haul- 
ing himself up by the rope attached to your waist, 
when the two portions of the rope formed an 
acute angle, when your footing was confined to 
the insecure grip of one toe on a slippery bit of 

167 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ice, and when a great hummock of hard serac was 
pressing against the pit of your stomach and re- 
ducing you to a position of neutral equilibrium, 
the result was a feeling of qualified acquiescence 
in Michel or Aimer's lively suggestion of ''Vor- 
warts! vorwarts!" 

Somehow or other we did ascend. The excite- 
ment made the time seem short; and after what 
seemed to me to be half an hour, which was in fact 
nearly two hours, we had crept, crawled, climbed 
and wormed our way through various obstacles, 
till we found ourselves brought up by a huge over- 
hanging wall of blue ice. This wall was no doubt 
the upper side of a crevasse, the lower part of 
which had been filled by snow-drift. Its face was 
honeycombed by the usual hemispherical chippings, 
which somehow always reminds me of the fretted 
walls of the Alhambra; and it was actually hol- 
lowed out so that its upper edge overhung our 
heads at a height of some twenty or thirty feet; 
the long fringe of icicles which adorned it had 
made a slippery pathway of ice at two or three 
feet distance from the foot of the wall by the 
freezing water which dripped from them ; and along 
this we crept, in hopes that none of the icicles 
would come down bodily. 

The wall seemed to thin out and become much 
lower toward our left, and we moved cautiously 
toward its lowest point. The edge upon which 
we walked was itself very narrow, and ran down 
at a steep angle to the top of a lower icefall which 
repeated the form of the upper. It almost thin- 
ned out at the point where the upper wall was 
lowest. Upon this inclined ledge, however, we 
fixt the foot of our ladder. The difficulty of do- 

168 



ALPINE MOUNTAIN CLIMBING 

ing so conveniently was increased by a transverse 
crevasse which here intersected the other system. 
The foot, however, was fixt and rendered toler- 
ably safe by driving in firmly several of our al- 
penstocks and axes under the lowest step. Aimer, 
then, amidst great excitement, went forward to 
mount it. Should we still find an impassable sys- 
tem of crevasses above us, or were we close to the 
top? A gentle breeze which had been playing 
along the last ledge gave me hope that we were 
really not far off. As Aimer reached the top 
about twelve o'clock, a loud yodel gave notice to 
all the party that our prospects were good. I 
soon followed, and saw, to my great delight, a 
stretch of smooth, white snow, without a single 
crevasse, rising in a gentle curve from our feet to 
the top of the col. 

The people who had been watching us from the 
Wengern Alp had been firing salutes all day, when- 
ever the idea struck them, and whenever we sur- 
mounted a difficulty, such as the first great crev- 
asse. We heard the faint sound of two or three 
guns as we reached the final plateau. We should, 
properly speaking, have been uproariously tri- 
umphant over our victory. To say the truth, our 
party of that summer was only too apt to break 
out into undignified explosions of animal spirits, 
bordering at times upon horseplay. ... 

The top of the Jungfrau-Joch comes rather like 
a bathos in poetry. It rises so gently above the 
steep ice wall, and it is so difficult to determine 
the precise culminating point, that our enthusiasm 
oozed out gradually instead of producing a sud- 
den explosion; and that instead of giving three 
cheers, singing *'God Save the Queen," or observ- 

169 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

ing any of the traditional ceremonial of a simpler 
generation of travelers, we calmly walked forward 
as the we had been crossing Westminster Bridge, 
and on catching sight of a small patch of rocks 
near the foot of the Monch, rushed precipitately 
down to it and partook of our third breakfast. 
Which things, like most others, might easily be 
made into an allegory. 

The great dramatic moments of life are very 
apt to fall singularly flat. We manage to dis- 
count all their interest beforehand; and are amazed 
to find that the day to which we have looked for- 
ward so long — the day, it may be, of our marriage, 
or ordination, or election to be Lord Mayor — 
finds us curiously unconscious of any sudden trans- 
formation and as strongly inclined to prosaic eat- 
ing and drinking as usual. At a later period we 
may become conscious of its true significance, and 
perhaps the satisfactory conquest of this new pass 
has given us more pleasure in later years than it 
did at the moment. 

However that may be, we got under way again 
after a meal and a chat, our friends Messrs. George 
and Moore descending the Aletsch glacier to the 
Aeggischhorn, whose summit was already in sight, 
and deceptively near in appearance. The remain- 
der of the party soon turned off to the left, and 
ascended the snow slopes to the gap between the 
Monch and Trugberg. As we passed these huge 
masses, rising in solitary grandeur from the center 
of one of the noblest snowy wastes of the Alps, 
Morgan reluctantly confest for the first time that 
he knew nothing exactly like it in Wales. 



170 



XI 

OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 

THE GREAT ST. BERNARD HOSPICE* 

BY ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL KNOWLES 

Tlie Pass of the Great St. Bernard was a 
well-known one long before the hospice was built. 
Before the Christian era, the Romans used it as 
a highway across the Alps, constantly improving 
the road as travel over it increased. Many lives 
were lost, however, as no material safeguards could 
obviate the danger from the elements, and no one 
will ever know the number of souls who met their 
end in the blinding snows and chilling blasts of 
those Alpine heights. 

To Bernard de Menthon is due the credit of the 
mountain hospice. He was the originator of the 
idea and the founder of the institution. He has 
since been canonized as a saint and he well deserved 
the honor, if it be a virtue to sacrifice oneself, as 
we believe, and to try and save the lives of one's 
fellows! It is no easy existence which St. Ber- 
nard chose for himself and followers. The very 
aspect of the pass is grand but gloomy. None of 
the softness of nature is seen. There is no ver- 

*From "Adventures in the Alps." Published by the 
George W. Jacob Co. 

171 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

dure, no beauty of coloring, nothing but bleak, 
bare rock, great piles of stones, and occasional 
patches of fallen snow. It is thoroughly exposed, 
the winds always moaning mournfully around the 
buildings. . . . 

The trip begins at Martigny. First there is a 
level stretch, then a long, steady climb, after which 
begins the real road to the pass. The views are 
very lovely, and while quite different in some ways 
excel all passes except the famous Simplon. The 
scenery is very varied, the mountains are far 
enough off to give a good perspective, and the 
villages are most picturesque. The absence of 
snow peaks in any great number will be felt by 
some, but even a lover of such soon forgets the 
lack in the exceeding beauty and loveliness of the 
valleys. 

Toward the top of the pass there is quite a 
transformation. Both the road and the scenery 
change, the first becoming more and more steep 
and stony, the latter showing more and more of 
savage grandeur, as the green, smiling valleys are 
no longer seen, but in their place appear barren 
and rugged rocks and slopes, with the marks of 
the ravages wrought by storm, landslide and ava- 
lanche. The wind has fuller play and seems to 
moan in a mournful, dirge-like manner, accentu- 
ating the characteristics of bleakness and desola- 
tion which obtain at the top of the pass, all the 
more noticeable if the traveler arrives at dusk, 
just as the sun has disappeared behind the moun- 
tains. 

In this dreary place stands the hospice. The 
present buildings are not very old, the hospice only 
dating from the sixteenth century and the 

172 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



church from the seventeenth century, while 
the other structures, which have been built 
for the accommodation of strangers are com- 
paratively new. Twelve monks of the Augus- 
tiniaii Order are regularly in residence here. 
They come when about twenty years of age; but 
so severe is the climate, so hard the life and so 
stern the rule that, after a service of about fifteen 
years, they generally have to seek a lower altitude, 
often ruined in health, with their powers com- 
pletely sapped by the rigors and privations which 
they have endured. Altho the hospice and the 
adjoining hostelry for the travelers are cheer- 
less in the extreme, there is always a warm wel- 
come from the monks. No one, however poor, is 
refused bed and board for the night, and there is 
no "distinction of persons." The hospitality is 
extended to all, free of charge, this being the in- 
variable rule of the institution, but it is expected, 
and rightly so, that those who can do so will de- 
posit a liberal offering in the box provided for 
the purpose. The small receipts, however, show 
what a great abuse there is of this hospitality, for 
a large number of those who come in the summer 
could well afford to give and to give largely. 

We hear much of the courage and perseverance 
of Hannibal and Caasar in leading their armies 
over the Alps ! We see pictures of Napoleon and 
his soldiers as they toiled up the pass, dragging 
along their frozen guns, and perhaps falling into 
a fatal sleep about their dying camp fires at night ! 
And we rightly admire such bravery, and thrill 
with admiration at the tale. Yet those armies 
which crossed the Alps failed to equal the heroic 
self-sacrifice of those soldiers of the cross, the 

173 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

Monks of the Grand St. Bernard, who remain 
for years at their post, unknown and unsung by 
the wide, wide world, simply to save and shelter 
the humble travelers who come to grief in their 
winter journey across the pass, in search of work. 



AVALANCHES* 

BY VICTOR TISSOT 

Beside this dazzling, magnificent snow, cover- 
ing the chain of lofty peaks like an immaculate 
altar cloth, what a gloomy, dull look there is 
in the snow of the plains! One might think it 
was made of sugar or confectionery, that it 
was false like all the rest. 

To know what snow really is — to get quit of 
this feeling of artificial snow that we have 
when we see the stunted shrubs in our Parisian 
gardens wrapt, as it were, in silk paper like 
bits of Christmas trees — it must be seen here in 
these far-off, high valleys of the Engandine, 
that lie for eight months dead under their 
shroud of snow, and often, even in the height 
of summer, have to shiver anew under some win- 
try flakes. 

It is here that snow is truly beautiful! It 
shines in the sun with a dazzling whiteness; 
it sparkles with a thousand fires like diamond 
dust; it shows gleams like the plumage of a 
white dove, and it is as firm under the foot as 
a marble pavement. It is so fine-grained, so 

*From "Unknown Switzerland." Published by James 
Pott & Co. 

174 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



compact, that it clings like dust to every crev- 
ice and bend, to every projecting edge and 
point, and follows every outline of the moun- 
tain, the form of which it leaves as clearly de- 
lined as if it were a covering of thin gauze. It 
sports in the most charming decorations, carves 
alabaster facings and cornices on the cliifs, 
wreathes them in delicate lace, covers them with 
vast canopies of white satin spangled with stars 
and fringed with silver. 

And yet this dry, hard snow is extremely sus- 
ceptible to the slightest shock, and may be set 
in motion by a very trifling disturbance of the 
air. The flight of a bird, the cracking of a 
whip, the tinkling of bells, even the conversa- 
tion of persons going along sometimes suffices 
to shake and loosen it from the vertical face 
of the cliffs to which it is clinging; and it runs 
down like grains of sand, growing as it falls, 
by drawing down with it other beds of snow. 
It is like a torrent, a snowy waterfall, burst- 
ing out suddenly from the side of the moun- 
tain; it rushes down with a terrible noise, swol- 
len with the snows that it carries down in its 
furious course ; it breaks against the rocks, di- 
vides and joins again like an overflowing 
stream, and with a wild tempest blast resumes 
its desolating course, filling the echoes with the 
deafening thunder of battle. 

You think for a moment that a storm has be- 
gun, but looking at the sky you see it serenely 
blue, smiling, cloudless. The rush becomes more 
and more violent; it comes nearer, the ground 
trembles, the trees bend and break with a sharp 
crack; enormous stones and blocks of ice are 

175 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

carried away like gravel; and the mighty ava- 
lanche, with a crash like a train running off 
the rails over a precipice, drops to the foot of 
the mountain, destroying, crushing down every- 
thing before it, and covering the ground with 
a bed of snow from thirty to fifty feet deep. 

When a stream of water wears a passage for 
itself under this compact mass, it is sometimes 
hollowed out into an arched way, and the snow 
becomes so solid that carriages and horses can 
go through without danger, even in the middle 
of summer. But often the water does not find 
a course by which to flow away; and then, when 
the snow begins to melt, the water seeps into 
the fissures, loosens the mass that chokes up 
the valley, and carries it down, rending its 
banks as it goes, carrying away bridges, mills, 
and trees, and overthrowing houses. The ava- 
lanche has become an inundation. 

The mountaineers make a distinction between 
summer and winter avalanches. The former 
are solid avalanches, formed of old snow that 
has almost acquired the consistency of ice. The 
warm breath of spring softens it, loosens it 
from the rocks on which it hangs, and it slides 
down into the valleys. These are called "melt- 
ing avalanches." They regularly follow cer- 
tain tracks, and these are embanked, like the 
course of a river, with wood or bundles of 
branches. It is in order to protect the alpine 
roads from these avalanches that those long 
open galleries have been built on the face of 
the precipice. 

The most dreaded and most terrible ava- 
lanches, those of dry, powdery snow, occur only 

176 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



in winter, when sudden squalls and hurricanes 
of snow throw the whole atmosphere into chaos. 
They come down in sudden whirlwinds, with 
the violence of a waterspout, and in a few 
minutes whole villages are buried. . . . 

Here, in the Grisons, the whole village of 
Selva was buried under an avalanche. Noth- 
ing remained visible but the top of the church 
steeple, looking like a pole planted in the 
snow. Baron Munchausen might have tied his 
horse there without inventing any lie about it. 
The Val Verzasca was covered for several 
months by an avalanche of nearly 1,000 feet 
in length and 50 in depth. All communica- 
tion through the valley was stopt; it was 
impossible to organize help; and the alarm-bell 
was incessantly sounding over the immense 
white desolation like a knell for the dead. 

In the narrow defile in which we now are, 
there are many remains of avalanches that 
neither the water of the torrent nor the heat 
of the sun has had power to melt. The bed 
of the river is strewn with displaced and bro- 
ken rocks, and gTeat stones bound together by 
the snow as if with cement; the surges dash 
against these rocky obstacles, foaming angrily, 
with the blind fury of a wild beast. And the 
moan of the powerless water flows on into the 
depth of the valley, and is lost far off in a 
hollow murmur. 



VI— 12 177 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 
HUNTING THE CHAMOIS* 

BY VICTOR TISSOT 

Schmidt swept with his cap the snow which 
covered the stones on which we were to seat 
ourselves for breakfast, then unpacked the pro- 
visions; slices of veal and ham, hard-boiled 
eggs, wine of the Yaltelline. His knapsack, 
covered with a napkin, served for our table. 
While we sat, we devoured the landscape, the 
twelve glaciers spreading around us their car- 
pet of swansdown and ermine, sinking into cre- 
vasses of a magical transparency, and raising 
their blocks, shaped into needles, or into Goth- 
ic steeples with pierced arches. The architec- 
ture of the glacier is marvelous. Its decora- 
tions are the decorations of fairyland. Quite 
near us marks of animals in the snow attracted our 
attention. Schmidt said to us : 

"Chamois have been here this morning; the 
traces are quite fresh. They must have seen 
us and made off; the chamois are as distrust- 
ful, you see, as the marmots, and as wary. At 
this season they keep on the glaciers by prefer- 
ence. They live on so little! A few herbs, a 
few mosses, such as gi'ow on isolated rocks like 
this. I assure you it is very amusing to see a herd 
of twenty or thirty chamois cross at a head- 
long pace a vast field of snow, or glacier, 
where they bound over the crevasses in play. 

"One would say they were reindeers in a 
Lapland scene. It is only at night that they 

*From "Unknown Switzerland." Published by James 
Pott & Co. 

178 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



eome down into the valleys. In the moon- 
light they eome out of the moraines, and go to 
pasture on the grassy slopes or in the forest 
adjoining the glaciers. During the day they go 
up again into the snow, for which they have an 
extraordinary love, and in which they skip and 
play, amusing themselves like a band of schol- 
ars in play hours. They tease one another, 
butt with their horns in fun, run off, return, 
pretend new attacks and new flights with 
charming agility and frolicsomeness. 

**While the young ones give themselves up 
to their sports, an old female, posted as sen- 
tinel at some yards distance, watches the valley 
and scents the air. At the slightest indication of 
danger, she utters a sharp cry; the games cease 
instantly, and the whole anxious troop assem- 
bles round the guardian, then the whole herd 
sets off at a gallop and disappears in the 
twinkling of an eye. . . . 

"Hunting- on the neves and the glaciers is 
very dangerous. When the snow is fresh it 
is with difficulty one can advance. The hunt- 
ers use wooden snowshoes, like those of the Es- 
quimaux. 

"One of my comrades, in hunting on the Ro- 
seg, disappeared in the bottom of a crevasse. 
It was over thirty feet deep. Imagine two 
perfectly smooth sides; two walls of crystal. 
To reascend was impossible. It was certain 
death, either from cold or hunger; for it was 
known that w^hen he went chamois-hunting he 
was often absent for several days. He could 
not therefore count on help being sent; he 
must resign himself to death. 

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SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

"One thing, however, astonished him; it was 
to find so little water in the bottom of the 
crevasse. Could there be then an opening at 
the bottom of the funnel into which he had 
fallen? He stooped, examined this grave in which 
he had been buried alive, discovered that the heat 
of the sun had caused the base of the glacier to 
melt. A canal drainage had been formed. Lay- 
ing himself fiat, he slid into this dark passage, 
and after a thousand efforts he arrived at the 
end of the glacier in the moraine, safe and 
sound." 

We had finished breakfast. We wanted some- 
thing warm, a little coffee. Schmidt set up our 
spirit-lamp behind two great stones that pro- 
tected it from the wind. And while we waited 
for the water to boil, he related to us the 
story of Colani, the legendary hunter of the 
upper Engandine. 

"Colani, in forty years, killed two thousand 
seven hundred chamois. This strange man had 
carved out for himself a little kingdom in the 
mountain. He claimed to reign there alone, to 
be absolute master. When a stranger penetrated 
into his residence, within the domain of ^his 
reserved hunting-ground,' as he called the re- 
gions of the Bernina, he treated him as a 
poacher, and chased him with a gun. . . . 

"Colani was feared and dreaded as a diabol- 
ical and supernatural being; and indeed he 
took no pains to undeceive the public, for the 
superstitious terrors inspired by his person serv- 
ed to keep away all the chamois-hunters from 
his chamois, which he cared for and managed 
as a great lord cares for the deer in his forests. 

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Round the little house which he had built for 
himself on the Col de Bernina, and where he 
passed the summer and autumn, two hundred 
chamois, almost tame, might be seen wandering 
about and browsing. Every year he killed about 
fifty old males." 



THE CELEBRITIES OF GENEVA* 

BY FRANCIS H. GRIBBIiE 

It has been remarked as curious that the Age 
of Revolution at Geneva was also the Golden Age 
— if not of Genevan literature, which has never 
really had any Golden Age, at least of Genevan 
science, which was of world-wide renown. 

The period is one in which notable names meet 
us at every turn. There were exiled Genevans, 
like de Lolme, holding their own in foreign polit- 
ical and intellectual circles; there were emigrant 
Genevan pastors holding aloft the lamps of cul- 
ture and piety in many cities of England, France, 
Russia, Germany, and Denmark; there were Gene- 
vans, like Frangois Lefort, holding the highest 
offices in the service of foreign rulers; and there 
were numbers of Genevans at Geneva of whom 
the cultivated grand tourist wrote in the tone of 
a disciple writing of his master. One can not 
glance at the history of the period without light- 
ing upon names of note in almost all departments 
of endeavor. The period is that of de Saussure, 
Bourrit, the de Lues, the two Hubers, great 
authorities respectively on bees and birds; Le 

♦From "Geneva," 

181 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

Sage, who was one of Gibbon's rivals for the 
heart of Mademoiselle Suzanne Curchod; Sene- 
bier, the librarian who wrote the first literary- 
history of Geneva; St. Ours and Arlaud, the 
painters; Charles Bonnet, the entomologist; 
Berenger and Picot, the historians; Tronchin, the 
physician; Trembley and Jallabert, the mathema- 
ticians; Dentan, minister and Alpine explorer; 
Pictet, the editor of the "Bibliotheque Universelle," 
still the leading Swiss literary review; and Odier, 
who taught Geneva the virtue of vaccination. 

It is obviously impossible to dwell at length 
upon the careers of all these eminent men. As 
well might one attempt, in a survey on the same 
scale of English literature, to discuss in detail the 
careers of all the celebrities of the age of Anne. 
One can do little more than remark that the list is 
marvelously strong for a town of some 30,000 
inhabitants, and that many of the names included 
in it are not only eminent, but interesting. Jean 
Andre de Luc, for example, has a double claim 
upon our attention as the inventor of the hygrom- 
eter and as the pioneer of the snow-peaks. He 
climbed the Buet as early as 1770, and wrote an 
account of his adventures on its summit and its 
slopes which has the true charm of Arcadian sim- 
plicity. He came to England, was appointed 
reader to Queen Charlotte, and lived in the enjoy- 
ment of that office, and in the gratifying knowl- 
edge that Her Majesty kept his presentation hy- 
grometer in her private apartments, to the vener- 
able age of ninety. 

Bourrit is another interesting character — being, 
in fact, the spiritual ancestor of the modern Al- 
pine Clubman. By profession he was Precentor 

182 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



of the Cathedral; but his heart was in the moun- 
tains. In the summer he climbed them, and in 
the winter he wrote books about them. One of 
his books was translated into English; and the 
list of subscribers, published with the translation, 
shows that the public which Bourrit addrest in- 
cluded Edmund Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, Bar- 
tolozzi, Fanny Burney, Angelica Kauffman, David 
Garrick, Sir Joshua Reynolds, George Augustus 
Selwyn, Jonas Hanway and Dr. Johnson. His 
writings earned him the honorable title of His- 
torian (or Historiographer) of the Alps. Men 
of science wrote him letters; princes engaged upon 
the grand tour called to see him; princesses sent 
him presents as tokens of their admiration and 
regard for the man who had taught them how the 
contemplation of mountain scenery might exalt 
the sentiments of the human mind. 

Tronchin, too, is interesting; he was the first 
physician who recognized the therapeutic use of 
fresh air and exercise, hygienic boots, and open 
windows. So is Charle Bonnet, who was not 
afraid to stand up for orthodoxy against Voltaire; 
so is Mallet, who traveled as far as Lapland; 
and so is that man of whom his contemporaries 
always spoke, with the reverence of hero-wor- 
shipers, as "the illustrious de Saussure." . . . 

The name of which the Genevans are proudest is 
probably that of Rousseau, who has sometimes 
been spoken of as "the austere citizen of Geneva." 
But "austere" is a strange epithet to apply to the 
philosopher who endowed the Foundling Hospital 
with five illegitimate children ; and Geneva can 
not claim a great share in a citizen who ran away 
from the town of his boyhood to avoid being 



183 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

thrashed for stealing apples. It was, indeed, at 
Geneva that Jean Jacques received from his aunt 
the disciplinary chastisement of which he gives 
such an exciting account in his "Confessions"; 
and he once returned to the city and received the 
Holy Communion there in later life. But that is 
all. Jean Jacques was not educated at Geneva, 
but in Savoy — at Annecy, at Turin, and at Cham- 
bery; his books were not printed at Geneva, tho 
one of them was publicly burned there, but in 
Paris and Amsterdam; it is not to Genevan but to 
French literature that he belongs. 

We must visit Voltaire at Ferney, and Madame 
de Stael at Coppet. Let the patriarch come first. 
Voltaire was sixty years of age when he settled 
on the shores of the lake, where he was to remain 
for another f our-and-twenty years ; and he did not 
go there for his pleasure. He would have pre- 
ferred to live in Paris, but was afraid of being 
locked up in the Bastille. As the great majority 
of the men of letters of the reign of Louis XV. 
were, at one time or another, locked up in the 
Bastille, his fears were probably well founded. 

Moreover, notes of warning had reached his 
ears. "I dare not ask you to dine," a relative 
said to him, "because you are in bad odor at 
Court." So he betook himself to Geneva, as so 
many Frenchmen, illustrious and otherwise, had 
done before, and acquired various properties — at 
Prangins, at Lausanne, at Saint- Jean (near Gen- 
eva), at Femey, at Tournay, and elsewhere. 

He was welcomed cordially. Dr. Tronchin, the 
eminent physician, cooperated in the legal fictions 
necessary to enable him to become a landowner 
in the republic. Cramer, the publisher, made a 

184 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



proposal for the issue of a complete and author- 
ized edition of his works. All the best people 
called. ^'It is very pleasant," he was able to 
write, "to live in a country where rulers borrow 
your carriage to come to dinner with you." 

Voltaire corresponded regularly with at least 
four reigning sovereigns, to say nothing of men of 
letters. Cardinals, and Marshals of France; and he 
kept open house for travelers of mark from every 
country in the world. Those of the travelers who 
wrote books never failed to devote a chapter to 
an account of a visit to Ferney; and from the 
mass of such descriptions we may select for quota- 
tion that written, in the stately style of the period, 
by Dr. John Moore, author of "Zeluco," then 
making the grand tour as tutor to the Duke of 
Hamilton. 

"The most piercing eyes I ever beheld," the 
doctor writes, "are those of Voltaire, now in his 
eightieth year. His whole countenance is expres- 
sive of genius, observation, and extreme sensi- 
bility. In the morning he has a look of anxiety 
and discontent; but this gradually wears off, and 
after dinner he seems cheerful; yet an air of 
irony never entirely forsakes his face, but may 
always be observed lurking in his features whether 
he frowns or smiles. Composition is his prin- 
cipal amusement. No author who writes for 
daily bread, no young poet ardent for distinction, 
is more assiduous with his pen, or more anxious 
for fresh fame, than the wealthy and applauded 
Seigneur of Ferney. He lives in a very hospita- 
ble manner, and takes care always to have a good 
cook. He generally has two or three visitors from 
Paris, who stay with him a month or six weeks at 

185 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

a time. When they go, their places are soon sup- 
plied, so that there is a constant rotation of soci- 
ety at Ferney. These, with Voltaire's own family 
and his visitors from Geneva, compose a company 
of twelve or fourteen people, who dine daily at 
his table, whethers he appears or not. All who 
bring recommendations from his friends may de- 
pend upon being received, if he be not really in- 
disposed. He often presents himself to the strang- 
ers who assemble every afternoon in his ante- 
chamber, altho they bring no particular recom- 
mendation." 

It might have been added that (when an inter- 
esting stranger who carried no introduction was 
passing through the town, Voltaire sometimes sent 
for him; but this experiment was not always 
a success, and failed most ludicrously in the case 
of Claude Gay, the Philadelphian Quaker, author 
of some theological works now forgotten, but then 
of note. The meeting was only arranged with 
difficulty on the philosopher's undertaking to put 
a bridle on his tongue, and say nothing flippant 
about holy things. He tried to keep his promise, 
but the temptation was too strong for him. After 
a while he entangled his guest in a controversy 
concerning the proceedings of the patriarchs and 
the evidences of Christianity, and lost his temper 
on finding that his sarcasms failed to make their 
usual impression. The member of the Society of 
Friends, however, was not disconcerted. He rose 
from his place at the dinner-table, and replied: 
"Friend Voltaire! perhaps thou mayst come to 
understand these matters rightly; in the meantime, 
finding I can do thee no good, I leave thee, and 
so fare thee well." 

, 186 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



And so saying, he walked out and walked back 
to Geneva, while Voltaire retired in dudgeon to 
his room, and the company sat expecting some- 
thing terrible to happen. 

A word, in conclusion, about Coppet! 

Necker* bought the property from his old 
banking partner, Thelusson, for 500,000 livres in 
French money, and retired to live there when the 
French Revolution drove him out of politics. His 
daughter, Madame de Stael, inherited it from him, 
and made it famous. 

Not that she loved Switzerland; it would be 
more true to say that she detested Switzerland. 
Swiss scenery meant nothing to her. When she 
was taken for an excursion to the glaciers, she 
asked what the crime was that she had to expiate 
by such a punishment; and she could look out on 
the blue waters of Lake Leman, and sigh for "the 
gutter of the Rue du Bac." Even to this day, 
the Swiss have hardly forgiven her for that, or 
for speaking of the Canton of Vaud as the coun- 
try in which she had been "so intensely bored for 
such a number of years." 

What she wanted was to live in Paris, to be a 
leader — or, rather, to be "the" leader — of 
Parisian society, to sit in a salon, the admired of 
all admirers, and to pull the wires of politics to 
the advantage of her friends. For a while she 
succeeded in doing this. It was she who per- 
suaded Barras to give Talleyrand his political 
start in life. But whereas Barras was willing to 
act on her advice. Napoleon was by no means 
equally amenable to her influence. Almost from 

*The French financier and minister of Louis XVI., 
father of Madame de Stael. 

187 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

the first he regarded her as a mischief-maker; 
and when a spy brought him an intercepted let- 
ter in which Madame de Stael exprest her hope 
that none of the old aristocracy of France would 
condescend to accept appointments in the house- 
hold of "the bourgeois of Corsica," he became her 
personal enemy, and, refusing her permission to 
live either in the capital or near it, practically 
compelled her to take refuge in her country seat. 
Her pleasaunce in that way became her gilded 
cage. 

Perhaps she was not quite so unhappy there as 
she sometimes represented. If she could not go to 
Paris, many distinguished and brilliant Parisians 
came to Coppet, and met there many brilliant and 
distinguished Germans, Genevans, Italians, and 
Danes. The Parisian salon, reconstituted, flour- 
ished on Swiss soil. There visited there, at one 
time or another, Madame Recamier and Madame 
Kriidner; Benjamin Constant, who was so long 
Madame de Stael's lover; Bonstetten, the Vol- 
tairean philosopher; Frederika Brun, the Danish 
artist; Sismondi, the historian; Werner, the Ger- 
man poet; Karl Ritter, the German geographer; 
Baron de Yoght; Monti, the Italian poet; Madame 
Vigee Le Brun ; Cuvier ; and Oelenschlaeger. From 
almost every one of them we have some pen-and- 
ink sketch of the life there. This, for instance, is 
the scene as it appeared to Madame Le Brun, who 
came to paint the hostess's portrait : 

"I paint her in antique costume. She is not 
beautiful, but the animation of her visage takes the 
place of beauty. To aid the expression I wished 
to give her, I entreated her to recite tragic verses 
wh2e I painted. She declaimed passages from 

188 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



Corneille and Racine. I find many persons 
established at Coppet. the beautiful Madame 
Recamier, the Comte de Sabran, a young English 
woman, Benjamin Constant, etc. Its society is 
continually renewed. They come to visit the illus- 
trious exile who is pursued by the rancor of the 
Emperor. Her two sons are now with her, under 
the instruction of the German scholar Schlegel; 
her daughter is very beautiful, and has a pas- 
sionate love of study; she leaves her company 
free all the morning, but they unite in the evening. 
It is only after dinner that they can converse with 
her. She then walks in her salon, holding in her 
hand a little green branch; and her words have an 
ardor quite peculiar to her; it is impossible to 
interrupt her. At these times she produces on one 
the effect of an improvisatrice." 

And here is a still more graphic description, 
taken from a letter written to Madame Recamier 
by Baron de Voght: 

"It is to you that I owe my most amiable 
reception at Coppet. It is no doubt to the favor- 
able expectations aroused by your friendship that 
I owe my intimate acquaintance with this re- 
markable woman. I might have met her without 
your assistance — some casual acquaintance would 
no doubt have introduced me — but I should never 
have penetrated to the intimacy of this sublime 
and beautiful soul, and should never have known 
how much better she is than her reputation. She 
is an angel sent from heaven to reveal the divine 
goodness upon earth. To make her irresistible, 
a pure ray of celestial light embellishes her spirit 
and makes her amiable from every point of view. 

"At once profound and light, whether she is 

189 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

discovering a mysterious secret of the soul or 
grasping the lightest shadow of a sentiment, her 
genius shines without dazzling, and when the orb 
of light has disappeared, it leaves a pleasant twi- 
light to follow it. . . . No doubt a few faults, a 
few weaknesses, occasionally veil this celestial ap- 
parition; even the initiated must sometimes be 
troubled by these eclipses, which the Genevan 
astronomers in vain endeavor to predict. 

"My travels so far have been limited to jour- 
neys to Lausanne and Coppet, where I often stay 
three or four days. The life there suits me per- 
fectly; the company is even more to my taste. I 
like Constant's wit, Schlegel's learning, Sabran's 
amiability, Sismondi's talent and character, the 
simple truthful disposition and just intellectual 
perceptions of Auguste/* the wit and sweetness of 
Albertinet — I was forgetting Bonstetten, an excel- 
lent fellow, fuU of knowledge of all sorts, ready 
in wit, adaptable in character — in every way in- 
spiring one's respect and confidence. 

"Your sublime friend looks and gives life to 
everything. She imparts intelligence to those 
around her. In every corner of the house some 
one is engaged in composing a great work. , . . 
Corinne is writing her delightful letters about 
Germany, which will, no doubt, prove to be the 
best thing she has ever done. 

"The ^Shunamitish Widow,' an Oriental melo- 
drama which she has just finished, will be played 

*Madame de Stael's son, who afterward edited the 
works of Madame de Stael and Madame Necker. — 
Author's note. 

tMadame de Stael's daughter, afterward Duchesse 
de Broglie. 

190 



OTHER ALPINE TOPICS 



in October; it is charming. Coppet will be flooded 
with tears. Constant and Auguste are both com- 
posing tragedies; Sabran is writing a comic 
opera, and Sismondi a history; Schlegel is trans- 
lating something; Bonstetten is busy with philos- 
ophy, and I am busy with my letter to Juliette." 

Then, a month later: 

"Since my last letter, Madame de Stael has 
read us several chapters of her work. Every- 
where it bears the marks of her talent. I wish 
I could persuade her to cut out everything in it 
connected with politics, and all the metaphors 
which interfere with its clarity, simplicity, and 
accuracy. What she needs to demonstrate is not 
he republicanism, but her wisdom. Mile. Jenner 
played in one of Werner's tragedies which was 
given, last Friday, before an audience of twenty. 
She, Werner, and Schlegel played perfectly. . . . 

"The arrival in Switzerland of M. Cuvier has 
been a happy distraction for Madame de Stael; 
they spent two days together at Geneva, and were 
well pleased with each other. On her return to 
Coppet she found Middleton there, and in receiv- 
ing his confidences forgot her troubles. Yester- 
day she resumed her work. 

"The poet whose mystical and somber genius has 
caused us such profound emotions starts, in a few 
days' time, for Italy. 

"I accompanied Corinne to Massot's. To alle- 
viate the tedium of the sitting, a Mile. Romilly 
played pleasantly on the harp, and the studio was 
a veritable temple of the Muses .... 

"Bonstetten gave us two readings of a Memoir 
on the Northern Alps. It began very well, but 
afterward it bored us. Madame de Stael resumed 



191 



SEEING EUROPE WITH FAMOUS AUTHORS 

her reading, and there was no longer any question 
of being bored. It is marvelous how much she 
must have read and thought over to be able to 
find the opportunity of saying so many good 
things. One may differ from her, but one can not 
help delighting in her talent. . . , 

"And now here we are at Geneva, trying to 
reproduce Coppet at the Hotel des Balances. I 
am delightfully situated with a wide view over the 
Valley of Savoy, between the Alps and the Jura. 

Yesterday evening the illusion of Coppet was 
complete. I had been with Madame de Stael to 
call on Madame Rilliet, who is so charming at 
her own fireside. On my return I played chess 
with Sismondi. Madame de Stael, Mile. Randall, 
and Mile. Jenner sat on the sofa chatting with 
Bonstetten and young Barante. "We were as we 
had always been — as we were in the days that I 
shall never cease regretting." 

Other descriptions exist in great abundance, but 
these suffice to serve our purpose. They show us 
the Coppet salon as it was pleasant, brilliant, un- 
conventional; something like Holland House, but 
more Bohemian; something like Harley Street, but 
more select; something like Gad's Hill — which it 
resembled in the fact that the members of the 
house-parties were expected to spend their morn- 
ings at their desks — ^but on a higher social plane; 
a center at once of high thinking and frivolous 
behavior; of hard work and desperate love-mak- 
ing, which sometimes paved the way to trouble. 



192 



V\9''^ 



>U 



